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 And 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 Burn like a chasm in the night Burn for a miniscule duration Ecstatic immolation, incorrigible delight