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Seven Matches
Gord Downie
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She gave me matches Seven wooden matches She put them into a small, slim glass jar With a screw-top lid And I fingered that jar I put it in my pocket She said, 'Can't go into the woods without them' I smiled at her and left And I kept them dry And as long as there were six I'd be fine As long as there were five Matches in that jar Mile after mile On the chick-chick chick-chick sound of the matches On the memory of her smile I kept them dry And as long as there were five I'd be fine As long as there were four Matches in a jar With a screw-top lid I know she did not mean to hurt my feelings But that's what she did I kept them dry And as long as there were three I'd be fine As long as there were two Matches in that jar
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