They teach you not to play with fire - but they let you play with words
They teach you how to toe the line - but not how much it hurts
They teach you all these useful things that you may never need
They teach you not to play with fire and then they watch you bleed...
I cut myself upon a verse and bled a tender rhyme
I washed the wound and made it clean, with language strong and fine
And all I bled I kept for years - and that's the blood I wear
I cut myself upon the past and I have no language there
I cut myself upon the past
I caught the line and held it fast
I nailed my colours to the mast but I
Wasn't wrong, it doesn't last, it doesn't last
It isn't you I'm frightened of though you caught me unprepared
This isn't how I want to feel - it isn't really me who's scared
They teach you not to play with fire - but they let you play with words
I cut myself upon a rhyme and bled another verse
I cut myself upon the past
I caught the line and held it fast
I nailed my colours to the mast but I
Wasn't wrong, it doesn't last, it doesn't last
I have forgotten how to dance these walls get in the way
This blindfold isn't tight enough and there's little more to say
I have forgotten and with cause the treasons I deny
And when you cut yourself you bleed, and when you bleed enough you die
Words and music by & © Talis Kimberley 24.11.2000