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