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