Throat is tight biting my tongue till I taste rust
Staring at the empty nail on the yellow wall
The heavy brown coat is gone just a shadow in the dust
Swallowing the bitter water down looking at the silent town
Striking the wooden match watching the yellow paper burn to black
Striking the wooden match watching the yellow paper burn to black
No turning back no turning back
The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head
Choking on the bitter words that I never said
Sweeping up the cold grey ash from the iron pan
Trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand
The fire is dead the fire is dead
Footsteps fading down the wooden stair
Grasping at the empty winter air
A pocket full of salt a mouth full of sand
Drawing a map for a forgotten land
Iron nail tearing at my skin
Losing the game before I begin
Striking the wooden match watching the yellow paper burn to black
Striking the wooden match watching the yellow paper burn to black
No turning back no turning back
The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head
Choking on the bitter words that I never said
Sweeping up the cold grey ash from the iron pan
Trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand
The fire is dead the fire is dead
Ash on the floor lock on the door
Tongue tied tied and all the light fires dead
Never said never said