Turn On The Light

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

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