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Rated: E · Lyrics · Personal · #2070882
The loss of friendship, the loss of self, and the gradual rekindling of those things.
We dragged the logs out of the woods,
and now we’re sitting in a circle
‘Round the metal, facing each other.
And somebody’s lit the match.
And somebody’s thrown it in.
And we're having our fire.

We're having our fire.

And the fire’s really going.
And we’re all really laughing.
And we all look like crudballs,
but none of us are caring.
And the sticks are being sharpened.
And the marshmallows are crisping.
And we are in a circle.
And the metal’s warm and glowing.
And we're having our fire.

We're having our fire.

And one time, few years later,
the logs were dragged out again.
The match was lit and thrown again.
But this time, it was different.
He threw a beer can into it.
It burst, and we were quiet.
And we sat in a circle,
and the metal- it was clouded.
Something else in our fire.

The logs sat for years on the ground.
I’ve stared at walls and I’ve lost pounds.
The smoke became something else-
something we set out to inhale.

The fire rim is still there.
And the air is still out there.
And the logs are still in the woods.
And I’m going to go get them.

And damn if it doesn’t kill me.
And damn if no one shows up.
But damn if I won’t sit down
by myself next to this metal
and have my own damn fire.

I’ll have my own damn fire.

You are welcome any moment.
I will always keep it going,
should you decide to pull up a chair
and stop messing with your hair.

I am creating my own circle
‘round this ever present metal.
We laugh. We roast marshmallows.
Even the smoke is fresh out here.
The place where you used to sit
has another person filling it.
I laugh. I roast marshmallows.
And I throw another log in.
And I’m warm in my fire.

I’m warm in my fire.
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