Matches

I'll light it with the last candle of his
in a bag in the kitchen
under the sink, let it spread
catch my bed and pajamas
burn me down, then spread to his side of town.
Tell Smokey these things happen,
children shouldn't play with matches.
Kids like me shouldn't play at all.
Put rocks around, keep water near. I know
but tell the ranger, the big red truck, and the neighbors
I don't know what I was thinking.
It just got away
He just got away... and run.
He'll gather his things slowly,
deciding what to take.
When he leaves all my photos,
he'll walk away relieved.
Walk away relieved.
Walk away relieved.
I'll light it with the last candle of his
in a bag in the kitchen
under the sink, let it spread
catch my head, stop its rumbling.
Burn me down.

©1994 Agent Gracie Music (BMI) and McKinley

Hear a 33-second excerpt in AIFF format. (357K)


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