I've got the rotten apple core feeling, dying like a living ghost, now I'm lying on the ground not making a sound, thinking I love you the most.
And I hope our candles flicker and die so that our hearts don't burn to the ground, down, down, just like Randy's house.
When you kissed me on the cheek with a gun I became a setting sun, now you're heading west bound while I'm lying on the ground thinking you were the one.
And I hope our candles flicker and die so that our hearts don't burn to the ground, down, down, just like Randy's house.

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