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