Yeah, I keep a pocket full of lighters for the dreams that won’t ignite,
strike the dark until it sparks and every shadow takes its flight.
We were homeless stars, humming bars beneath the city’s glow,
now we sky-write pain away, let the kerosene chorus flow.
Lift your flicker, let it linger, paste the night in golden glue;
when the world runs out of matches, I’ll burn my faith for you.
One flame, one name—scratched across the ceiling of the night;
together we’re a chandelier, turning broken glass to light.