B U R N
By Emily Price
These four walls contain the night. Grey hanging heavy on my dying light. Sensible drinking fools us to believing that we're not in a box, sober. Hold tight, I'll drive.
Chorus: I'm a flame in a glass cage, no game, waiting for the choke. Fingertips buzz electric with the itch to go go. I'm a flame, burning slow.
Girls, skin and bone, dressed in white. Scorn our scarlet letters. Superiority in their humility, silent lies. Hurry home little girls and cry.
Chorus: I'm a flame in a glass cage, no game, waiting for the choke. Fingertips buzz electric with the itch to go go. I'm a flame, burning slow.
I'm gonna stretch my moral fibre until I break, until I crack. Watch me fight this losing battle, what else can I do?
Can't you tell I'm dying here to feel your hand upon my back. Close your eyes to passing time as I waste away for you, waste away for you. For you... For you...
Chorus: I'm a flame in a glass cage, no game, waiting for the choke. Fingertips buzz electric with the itch to go go. I'm a flame, burning slow.
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