Matchstick

You'd spin head if you knew who I was
Bagged feet, and an acid tongue
Ripped tabs for a box-top crutch
We went back for another one

Here to lay their feelings at your feet
Beady eyes form a line around the street

Hey –
Come on let's burn it all down

You'd drop dead if you knew what I know
Rich kids at a trap-rap show
They told me Rock and Roll
It died out a long time ago

Place the names to faces that you meet
Parasites in the company you keep

Hey –
Come on let's burn it all down
Wait...
I need a matchstick

Adam lights the fuse despite cold feet
And the wind sent it sailing down the street
Smеll of soot and ashes, never еnding
Paralyzed, paranoid
You'll stop pretending

I need a matchstick...
I need a matchstick...

Hey –
Come on let's burn it all down
Wait...
I need a matchstick