Ignite

With the crash of the cymbals I start to unwind With past hopes of prettier pictures in mind I don't want to be rich but I want to be rich in kind Now I suffer the itch of the rash that I left behind With the smack of the snare drum it can't be denied The bastard who burns his bridges is inside I don't want to be rich but I want to be rich in pride Now I suffer the itch of the rash that I left behind I am growing tired Losing touch with those admired Doubting trusts and dousing fires And waiting for something to ignite With the boom of the bass drum I could beat these things Turn over thе twisted troubles within I don't want to be rich but I want to bе rich in grins I don't want to forget, I just want to start over again I am growing tired, losing touch with those admired Doubting trusts and dousing fires And waiting for something to ignite I don't want to be rich but I want to be rich Waiting for something to ignite Losing touch with those admired