We were a perfect match
maybe that's why we burnt out.

“Let’s burn oaks!” my mother said
Then she lit a tiny match
Still can’t fit it in my head
So much fire made from scratch
She said: “Oaks! Let’s burn them all!”
Then she drank a glass of wine
‘Twas a sunny day in fall
Fire started, I was nine

How is it possible to have so many beautiful memories
with a person
and then one day
to have them all burned and reduced to ashes?

How is it possible for the person sharing these memories
with you
to be the one striking the match?

I thought that my tears alone
would be enough to put the roaring flames out,
but I discovered that it was a two-person job,
and he wasn't crying.

So it burned
The fire raged

And now we're nothing but grey ash

People always talk about being a perfect match
But nobody ever talks about how abruptly matches burn out