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,

A beacon in the night,

I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry



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,

Like a chasm in the night,

For a miniscule duration,

Ecstatic immolation,

Incorrigible delight