Out here in the country, we pile our broken and cut things in giant burn piles, where they are left to rot until someone decides it’s time to tidy up the pasture. Then you light them, and what was rubbish becomes a beautiful bonfire. This is sort of a companion piece to Empty Bottles and Broken Dreams.

Baby your cold shoulder
Is a pile of ancient wood
All it needs is a spark
To get it burning real good
We used to talk in colors yeah
Now we sit here in the dark
I’d rather burn it to the ground
Than sit here and watch it fall apart

Chorus:
I’ll get the matches
Go find the kerosine
It’s too late for lying baby
It’s time to just come clean
You pour it all out
We’ll go out in style…
We’ll make a raging fire
Out of this burn pile

So come on out with it
All the trouble on your mind
Put a light to the silence
You so often hide behind
Keep your words to yourself babe
Using silence like a shield
I can’t get past the darkness
To find out how you really feel

© Kent Newsome; Err Bear Music