Well I slept through this cold night,
Hell, I've been through worse.
Heard a wicked story,
of Glass and tattered sash.
The fire keeps me friendly,
This fire tells me more,
It's all just ganna burn up
theres nothing else left but ash an Lyme.
That moon is watching; cautious.
It's makin sure I don't break more hearts.
I already feel so guilty,
I don't need this sentinel,
to remind me of my transgressions,
of love fueled aggressions.

So I might choke on this cigarette,
I might drown myself in drink,
You burning oh so bright,
I feel it's warmth from here,
For me its ******' bitter,
For whoelse it's cinnamon treats,
Please dim down your lights,
You make it real hard to ****** sleep.