I wandered back to the scene of the crime.
I remember all that transpired from that night.
As I was making my way across, the bridge went up in flames.
And the smoke still lingered even after all the tomorrows came.
I saw the match from your hand.
I smelled the gas before I could land.
I blame myself for not expecting it sooner,
when all of your crimes leave the same signature.
All the houses that burned down carried your name.
History said you were going around claiming you were framed.
Yet the clothes you wore still reeked of the fuel.
The last thing they found were skeletons inside a cubicle.
Did you think I’ll always play your game,
never thought I’d grow tired of the same joke every day?
When I came to bid you an honest farewell,
you thought it was an invitation to send me straight to hell.
Perhaps I truly am the one to blame.
You did tell me about the things that drove you insane.
And I recklessly chose the path of extrusion.
Perhaps I deserved this execution.
I wandered back to the scene of the crime.
Where the ghost of the bridge we burned still haunts its culprits.
I saw fear when we locked eyes.
Did you think I’d be reduced to ashes?
Did you think you were burning a witch?
Darling, you forget I’m a phoenix.
Fire is what keeps me alive.
