Room Full of Fire

 

now they've stolen our children we've nothing to lose,

so throw me a canvas and I'll cough up the truth.

of fake smiles, from fake talkers, in the back rooms of hell

throw me a rope, I'll climb out of this well

and i'm hiding in a tree contemplating my youth

throwing rocks at hippies, throwing flowers at troops

and i'm ironing out perfections in my imperfect friends

embracing all perceptions and straightening my bends.

and I


would rather stand tall in this room full of fire

and burn to the ground, than die in the corner and not make a sound.

 

I'm wanted somewhere, but it's not here,

and if this is the mainstream, lets jump off the pier,

and climb out the river, with tales of our own,

make sure they make you shiver and turn off your phone.

so unbutton your collar, no one cares about your look,

over well crafted lyrics and an ear for a hook,

'cause fame aint the problem, work hard and be proud,

just stay true to your fibres and loyal to your town

and I

 

would rather stand tall in this room full of fire

and burn to the ground, than die in the corner and not make a sound.

 

and while folk singers try to define

all the beauties and evils that subtly hide,

i'm just lost on this road yet I'm doing fine.

 

So I throw up these words and disguise as wisdom

and I'm giving up smoking, to help my gambling addiction

and a child approached me, with a tear in his eye,

looked up from his feet and said i'm terrified

I said I'm no good with words, but this one's for free

don't sketch out your plans and keep hold of your dreams

and just on this ride, with a shotgun in hand

and it's worth a shell if it makes you feel bland

and I

 

would rather stand tall in this room full of fire

and burn to the ground, than die in the corner and not make a sound.

and as they dance in the halls against their desire and die in the crowds

if I die on my feet, then I'll die proud.