Lyrics to The Match, The Flame, The Fire
These city lights are the only thing left guiding me back home. I'm sick and tired of making quite the mess out of everything I know. I've tried to get used to sleeping on this hard wood floor, but I can't get myself to call it off, call it off.
Don't call this luck. Luck it refused to learn my name. It forgot my face. Realized I'll have to do this on my own. Just ask my bloodshot eyes why I haven't slept in days. It's harder to dream when you've made your bed at the bottom of the ocean floor.
But I have this funny way of holding onto hope. Either I'm coming home for good or I'm not coming home at all.
These city lights are the only thing left guiding me back home. I'm sick and tired of making quite the mess out of everything I know. I've tried to get used to sleeping on this hardwood floor. But I can't get myself to call it off, call it off.
This piece of the puzzle it just doesn't fit. I swear I've been trying to for years. You call this a getaway. The why am I still here? Putting your life on hold. It just gets old when you're holding on to these select few dates.
But I have this funny way of holding on to hope. Either I'm coming home for good or I'm not coming home at all.
These city lights are the only thing left guiding me back home. I'm sick and tired of making quite the mess out of everything I know. I've tried to get used to sleeping on this hardwood floor. But I can't bring myself to call it off, call it off.
I'm the one who struck the match, the flame, the fire. I can only blame myself for the mess that I am in. When your heart gives in, your body soon will follow. Stretching myself far to thin's what did me in and I refuse to give up hope.
The Match, The Flame, The Fire Video:
Don't call this luck. Luck it refused to learn my name. It forgot my face. Realized I'll have to do this on my own. Just ask my bloodshot eyes why I haven't slept in days. It's harder to dream when you've made your bed at the bottom of the ocean floor.
But I have this funny way of holding onto hope. Either I'm coming home for good or I'm not coming home at all.
These city lights are the only thing left guiding me back home. I'm sick and tired of making quite the mess out of everything I know. I've tried to get used to sleeping on this hardwood floor. But I can't get myself to call it off, call it off.
This piece of the puzzle it just doesn't fit. I swear I've been trying to for years. You call this a getaway. The why am I still here? Putting your life on hold. It just gets old when you're holding on to these select few dates.
But I have this funny way of holding on to hope. Either I'm coming home for good or I'm not coming home at all.
These city lights are the only thing left guiding me back home. I'm sick and tired of making quite the mess out of everything I know. I've tried to get used to sleeping on this hardwood floor. But I can't bring myself to call it off, call it off.
I'm the one who struck the match, the flame, the fire. I can only blame myself for the mess that I am in. When your heart gives in, your body soon will follow. Stretching myself far to thin's what did me in and I refuse to give up hope.
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