I have a propensity for playing with fire. There are scars on my heart from past fires fought. But you, you are the gasoline that fuels the flame. Danger and beauty wrapped up in a resealable package, designed for reuse. And here I am, a pyromaniac. Its not easy for the addict to ignore the stash in the closet when he's feeling hard up. A manic obsessive complusion to see the tongues lick higher despite the impending wreckage. Self destruction at it's best and this girl knows how to play dirty. So I'll stack the timber, you can lay it on thick, I've pocketed the matches so let's see what measure of devestation we can inspire.