Champagne and Fires

Wild ones
Wounded ones
The ones who never found a home
Each with a host of our own fevered ghosts
And things we’d never quite outgrown

And oh, now weren’t we a pretty sight?
Those wounded birds hell bent on getting back in flight
And oh, that voracious appetite
We’d burn it down but somehow always stay entwined

Consummate opposites
Blissfully ignorant of time
I guess the truth is that all of that youth
Is wasted on us in our prime

And oh, now weren’t we a pretty sight?
Swallowing pain like it was nothing out of spite
But oh, how it caught us, oh so slight
With no foundation, it’s so easy to unwind

Relative
Sister, kin
The hollow words we try to find
Oh how I staggered
From each of your daggers
The truth is all of us were blind

And oh, now weren’t we a pretty sight?
Each one that ended in a catastrophic fight
But oh, that’s the thing I keep in mind
Champagne and fires just distract me from my life