Playing with Fire Is Such a Cliche
Tearing my roots from the ground
To replant them far away
Somewhere they’ll never be found
Tearing my roots from the ground
To repair this broken home
Full of empty rooms I roam
Full of empty rooms and not much else
We barely have our health, let alone any wealth
You fight and yell while I take care of myself
Sitting on my own like a doll on a shelf

I know that when it’s done they’ll soon refuse to speak
But I know that it’s a pattern that repeats
You’ve got to run away and find your own feet
Before you’re trapped with someone you don’t need

We liked the weather better on the colder days
Watching the rain outside as it washed away all the misery
Aren’t you done wallowing in self pity

Upturn the bed, forget what I said
Just breathe in the smoke and let it fill your head
The fire always burns the wick ‘till the end
Tearing my roots from the ground
To replant them far away
Somewhere they’ll never be found
Tearing my roots from the ground
To repair this broken home
Full of empty rooms I roam

Full of empty rooms and not much else
We barely have our healthy let alone any wealth
You fight and yell while I take care of myself
Sitting on my own like a doll on a shelf

So back to the bottle he goes
Like it’s the only friend he knows

Back to the bottle he goes
Drowning himself in his own ego
Can’t hit rock bottom, no
When it’s all he’s ever known

I’ve noticed over the years, all your surmounting fears
That living like this (like this)  is killing you slow
She says he’s like a machine with bent and rusted gears
No heart inside (inside), just a yearning to feel whole

Tearing my roots from the ground
To replant them far away
Somewhere they’ll never be found
Tearing my roots from the ground
Full of empty rooms and not much else
We’re not broken, just born this way
You fight and yell while I take care of myself
We’re not broken, just born this way