| Lyrics: | 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 |
