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,
A beacon in the night,
I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry

I'll construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses
And equip it with a million tiny suns,
I'll install upon the roof 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,
A beacon in the night,
I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry

And I'll burn like a roman fucking candle,
Like a chasm in the night,
For a miniscule duration,
Ecstatic immolation,
Incorrigible delight