Put out the fire on us.

Look at em all laugh, look at em all carry the pictures of days left behind. Carrying thoughts that are decaying in their minds.

Look at em all sing, listen to em carry the melody of their silly sappy fuckin heart strings.

Follow me down the path, down the beaten road that leads to a celibacy-ridden riddle of a past.

Hear me gasp, a cough of bricks and claps to clutter the landscape of places I will never go. Listen to me tell you tales of forgotten apostles and proselytizing con artists who bring their shows to the road. Of beggars and thieves, of cowards on their knees arguing over the best way to not let you get away. Of days and nights all wrapped up tight like they had a choice.
Like I have a choice.

And here is my chance, my choice to leave my days of searching behind me. Stuttering my steps and I realize "not looking" will never be the way someone defines me. You play the chords and I'll hum along, I'll seek the retribution but never earn being wronged.
I like to play the role of the heartbroken, pity suits me well and I can stay kinda soft-spoken. Kinda one step behind the winners and kinda falling apart like one of the broken.

Look at em all dancing around the fires, screeching their tires to light the pilots in the ovens, burning me down, dirty by the dozen.

Look at em all fall in line, each one more deserving of never earning my time.

Follow me feeling sorry for myself, you can all read along in your illustrated guide I left on the shelf.

Hear me cough up one more plea, a never-had dialogue involving you and me. There are no clever lines, no show and tell, just a little history. A too-sad-for-T.V. tale of one boy's misery. Just a request to put out the fire on me. I'm burning down as plain as can be seen.

And here is my chance, my choice to forget the days behind me. My twelve step seminar to alabastering the darkness from where I can see. Welcome to my every single day. Where I pay my life fortune to sit and waste away. Where I'll sell your nieces and your cousins to the fires in the ovens to feed my growing addiction to doing nothing at all.
Welcome to the uprising, I can't wait for the fall.