I am taking pictures off the wall Then taking them to the flame I am burning each and all Food for a fire fueled by blame
Snapshots that still had the sweet aroma of your perfume Here are the figures and figurines that once posed the query, “Can love get any better than this? Figures and images we hung in the front room And a thousand scenes of me giving you a kindling kiss
I never let things go but fought over so many paltry things It’s easier burning photos than the memory of the night she took my name A night of an angel in white and a man in black and tails trading rings Further food for a fire fueled by shame
I’ll have to spackle those holes and heal them quite well But I am incapable of healing what which has been done is done I’ve a legion of sins and there’s so much more to tell But what’s gone is gone so I’m burning pictures one by one
I will always remember when I first heard an angel’s song Lyrics of love as two hearts were bound together by desire But not even that angel could accept all that I’ve done wrong Disregarding the deepest description of both desire and this fire
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