Let's turn the outside way down low and play with fire. Say we've got nowhere else to be... we've met our match... because your moves move me to fly high and when I'm feeling unsure you come close you meet me in the middle at breakpoint.

To fall from a plane would make more sense...but who is so logical. Surely by now we've had our scares and now look what looks back at us. We won't say we won't hurt, it's too late for that talk to come around. It's just your storm and my storm dissolving at breakpoint.

We can sit by the fire and watch shadows fall in places we are not now. We can give this a name...let's call it joy and admit that it's not so hard in this life to feel hope, to be willing to harmonize strong love with soft love and meet grace at the breakpoint.

We can stay by the warmth, we can let it in full knowing what sorrow means. We've all learned one move can cost you ten...or is that just in the movies?...This love is our chance to be people who are having enough...who move slow, who hold hands, who are thankful for breakpoint.

So, let's turn the outside way down low, and play with fire...and play with fire...and play with fire...