Lyrics:

Some days I feel trapped
In these walls of wood
Paint, plaster and lath
How I wish I could
Find myself a match
Wouldn't it feel good
To leave a pile of ash
Where these walls stood?

High-tide tempest-tossed
Maybe we might drown
Babe it wouldn't cost
Much to leave this town
Go get ourselves lost
Leave nothing to be found
But burnt exhaust
And rubber on the ground

We could turn this house into a pyre
A funeral for all our old desires
A little spark
The engine starts
The spinning of the tires
Maybe we just need a little fire

Some nights it gets cold
Sleeping in this bed
This house is getting old
The drafts they seem to get
Down into your bones
But don't get up just yet
I'm yours to hold
Lets build a fire instead

Let's set this frame aflame
And fan it higher
The mattress springs
Will sing our quiet choir
We could turn
These sheets to burn
The smoke a rising spire
Maybe we just need a little fire