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,
Ill burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry, (yeah)
Ill construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses
And equip it with a million tiny suns,
Ill install upon the room of my compartment
And place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls then ill
Turn on the light,
Turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights, (yeah)
A beacon in the night,
Ill burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry,
And Ill burn like a roman fucking candle
Burn like a chasm in the night
Burn for a miniscule duration,
Ecstatic immolation, incorrigible delight