Gas Can

Letter Seventeen

A very bitter account of leaving a job.

Don’t burn the bridge they say
Yet here I stand any way
With a can of gas and a match
In my hand
Thinking how after all this time
Still not sure what’s yours and what’s mine
And neither of us is sure
We can walk away

You say you want to try
But I’m quite sure I’ve heard that lie
Come out of your mouth
So many times before
“It’ll be different this time”
Sounds just like another line
You’re feeding me
To try to make me stay

You think you own me
But I don’t owe you
You think you know me
But I don’t know you