I had a friend who kept a candle in his pocket,
He used to touch it when the wind was blowing high,
I guess it made him feel like he could buck the system
And when it flickered out we laid him down to die,
Turn on the light,
Turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights, (yeah)
A beacon in the night,
I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry, (yeah)
I'll construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses
And equip it with a million tiny suns,
I'll install upon the room of my compartment
And place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls then I'll
Turn on the light,
Turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights, (yeah)
A beacon in the night,
I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry,
And I'll burn like a roman fucking candle
burn like a chasm in the night
burn for a miniscule duration,
ecstatic immolation, incorrigible delight
