If There's a Rocket Tie Me To It
Snow Patrol Lyrics

Two weeks later like a surplus reprieve.
After a period of time, I felt like I had been given an unexpected release or pardon.

I found a hair the length of yours on my sleeve,
I discovered a strand of hair, reminiscent of yours, on my clothing.

I wound it round and round my finger so tight.
I wrapped the strand of hair around my finger tightly.

It turned to purple and a pulse formed in sight,
The wrapped hair became discolored and I could see my pulse in my finger.

And I knew the beat 'cause it marched your own beat.
I recognized my heartbeat as being in sync with yours.

I still remember that from our chest to chest then feet to feet.
I recall the closeness we shared, chest to chest and feet to feet.

The easy silence then was a sweet relief to this hush,
The comfortable quietness we shared was a welcomed respite from the surrounding noise.

Of ovens airplanes and of distant car points.
The sounds of everyday life, such as appliances, planes, and cars in the distance, were present.

A fire a fire, you can only take what you can carry,
In a disaster scenario, one can only bring what they can physically carry with them.

A pulse, you're pulse, it's the only thing I can remember.
Amidst the chaos, the only thing I can focus on is the sound of our heartbeats.

I break, you don't, I was always set to self-destruct, though
I am the one who falls apart while you remain composed; I have always had a tendency towards self-destruction.

The fire, the fire, the cracks and the barks like primal music.
The sounds of a burning fire, the creaks and pops of the wood, are like the raw sounds of primal music.

The sea between us only amplifies the sound waves,
The distance between us, like the vastness of the ocean, amplifies the sounds we share.

And every hum and echo in crash paints my cave.
Each sound and its reverberations fill my surroundings, like the paintings on the walls of a cave.

A fire a fire, you can only take what you can carry,
Once again, the concept that in a crisis, one can only take what they can physically carry, is repeated.

A pulse, you're pulse, it's the only thing I can remember.
In the midst of uncertainty, the familiarity of our heartbeats reoccurs as a focus of attention.

I break, you don't, I was always set to self-destruct, though
The idea that I am the one that falls apart and is prone to self-destruction persists.

The fire, the fire, the cracks and the barks like primal music.
Once more, the sounds of a fire are likened to a primitive form of music, created by the cracks and pops of burning wood.