No more wick, no more flame
Seems all of the same
Running on exhaust fumes and a damaged battery
Yet this road gets more and more cracked
Hate her, Hate him
It\'s just a vision of the familiar mirror
We grease our mirrors so they shine
But even grease shows it\'s true form
Burn this, burn that
Scrapbook gone and ash
Dust collected and dumped
Memories buried and resurfaced commonly