Burning everything I know down to merely cinders
What once ravaged me reduced to violent embers
Nothing left but a blaze of glory
And a former touch I can't quite remember
Nothing here for me -- but reminiscing
What else must be done when all you know is wrong?
History must not, cannot repeat itself
I won't sing another line of this sycophantic song
It's time for this beguiled heart to be its own drummer
No matter the consequences, be it ride or die
Take this light out from under its lampshade
Time for my spirit to spread wings and fly.