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I have seen the firewatcher's daughter
watching fires burn from smoke to black.
There's nothing she won't burn
from Styrofoam to urns,
to someone else's ashes in a sack.

You can scorch the metal,
you can even melt the glass.
You can pass the time here,
fire lives into the past.
An all-consuming flame
that refines and new begins.
It'll take your family heirlooms,
but it can take your darkest sins.

It's a good ol' bedtime story,
give you nightmares 'til you die,
and the ones that love to tell it,
hide the mischief in their eyes.
Condemn their sons to Hades
and Gehenna is full of guys, alive and well,
but there ain't no Hell for a firewatcher's daughter.

We exercise the demons
of the things we used to know.
The gnashing of the teeth
become the remnants of our homes.
We think we're moving on, from materials we long
to forget we ever sold our souls to own.

There's a chilling absolution
that we're given at our birth,
a powerful delusion, and a plague upon the earth.
But nothing scares me more
than the stranger at my door
who I fail to give shelter, time, and worth.

The good ol' bedtime story,
give you nightmares 'til you die,
and the ones that love to tell it,
hide the mischief in their eyes.
Condemn their sons to Hades
and Gehenna is full of guys, alive and well,
but there ain't no Hell for a firewatcher's daughter.

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