| The fire chief beleives
|
| It started in the leaves
|
| And spread across the yard and up the arbour
|
| A cigarettte alone
|
| Burnt us out of house and home
|
| Abandoned on the sidewalk
|
| Where the sirens and the pirates picked our bones
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful
|
| Than I am today
|
| Our everyday attire
|
| We lost it in the fire
|
| Now we’re sifting through the cinders and the ashes
|
| Searching for a sign
|
| The remains of yours and mine
|
| Suspecting all along we may have saved it if we’d only taken time
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful
|
| Than I am today
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful
|
| Than I am today
|
| If the bruises and the scars reflect the people that we are
|
| I guess that you could say that we’re beyond it
|
| The fire’s flickered out
|
| But the damage and the doubt
|
| Make me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind the couch
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful
|
| Than I am today
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful
|
| Than I am today
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful
|
| Than I am today
|
| I’m not the monster that I once was
|
| Twenty years ago I was more beautiful |