Young Lungs - Into It. Over It.
I've conjured up a plan
As a sentimental man
To destroy our things in style
It involves our belongings in a pile
Some lighter fluid and a smile
And some matches with"Chicago" inscribed on every stick
Strangers could see the flames for miles
From any highway or any hilltop
And we'd pass out as the smoke billows
And spills into our young lungs
With what strength that we'd have left
We'd save each others final breaths
For a distressed phone call to nine one one
And in minutes they'd arrive
Horrified at what they might find
It'd be you and I and a pile of ashes
Hand in hand and in each others arms
Hand in hand and in each others arms
Hand in hand and in each others arms
But it's not that bad
They revived me on the scene
And took my temperature and pulse
And while the handsome paramedic gave you mouth-to-mouth
I bit my tongue
In hopes they could save your life
In hopes they could save your life
Just you and I and a pile of ashes
Hand in hand and in each others arms
In a week when we look back
We'll be bandaged up, but laugh it off
And your skin might be thicker
And my stuff, it might be gone
But we'll have crammed everything we need in this song
We'll have everything we'd need inside this song
Just you and I and a pile of ashes
Hand in hand and in each others arms
