Inspirations: Such A Simple Thing
Tell me what you're feeling
I can take the pain
Tell me that you mean it
That you won't leave again
Tell me what your heart wants
Such a simple thing
My heart is like paper
Yours is like a flame
I can't make you see
If you don't by now
I'll get through these chains
Somehow, somehow
Take it if you want it
Im so tired I just don't care
Can't you see how much you hurt me?
It's like I wasn't there
Tell me what your heart wants
Such a simple thing
My heart is like paper
Yours is like a flame
My heart is like paper
Yours is like a flame
I can't make you see
If you don't by now
I'll get through these chains
Somehow, somehow
Tell me what your heart wants
Such a simple thing
My heart is like paper
Yours is like a flame
My heart is like paper
Yours is like a flame
These lyrics feel like standing in a quiet room after an argument, when the air still trembles with what was not said. There is no shouting here. Just exposure. The speaker keeps asking for something simple, almost childlike in its honesty: Tell me what you’re feeling. Tell me what your heart wants. Not grand promises. Not spectacle. Just truth. And yet truth is often the hardest thing for people to offer.
“My heart is like paper. Yours is like a flame.” That line lands softly and then burns. Paper wants to hold words, memories, tenderness. It is meant to be written on, folded, kept. A flame, though, is restless. It consumes. It is beautiful, but it does not know how to stay without destroying what it touches. Loving someone like fire when you are made of paper means you are always aware of how close you are to becoming ash. Even when they are warm, even when they are bright, you are already preparing for the scorch.
There is exhaustion threaded through every line. I’m so tired I just don’t care. That is not indifference. That is what happens when caring has cost too much for too long. It is the moment when love starts to feel like labor. When asking for presence feels heavier than carrying loneliness. The speaker is still offering themselves, still saying take it if you want it, but the offering comes with bruises already formed.
What moves me most is the quiet dignity of I can’t make you see. There is acceptance in that sentence. You can bleed for someone, explain yourself, wait, soften, repeat, and still not be understood. Love cannot force perception. At some point, survival requires loosening the chains instead of tightening your grip on someone else’s blindness.
And yet, hope does not fully disappear. I’ll get through these chains somehow. That is resilience whispered, not shouted. It is the kind of strength that grows in private, when no one is watching, when the heart is learning how to protect itself without becoming hard.
This song feels like the space between devotion and self preservation. Between wanting to be held and realizing you may have to hold yourself. It is about loving deeply, vulnerably, and learning that sometimes the bravest act is not staying in the fire, but remembering that paper still deserves to be written with care, not burned for someone else’s warmth.
