The Burn Lyrics

Yes, we've met before. I know we kissed some years ago.

I started walking by myself, but soon enough you showed.

A journey is a pinch of time, a dash from here to there.

It's destiny that generates the fantasies of where,

Fantastical, fanatical, destinies of air.

I needed a companion then, three-legged race I'd fall,

So I leaned upon an andiron. I wasn't wise at all.

The burn was quick and small.

The heat, the hot, the hell, the rot, the poet in the grass—

The portmanteau lay open like a shadowbox of glass.

Displaying all my organs for the doctor's dour malaise,

And the scars of my misconduct are the marks that show the ways

To renovate, communicate

To allocate, unlock,

To exercise, enumerate,

I walk these twelve short blocks.

The heat, the hot, the hell, the rot, the poet in the grass—

The portmanteau lay open like a shadowbox of glass.

It was the beat, the block, the roll, the rock, I'm tethered to the mast.

The do-si-do and away we go, a shadow from the past.