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 And I'll burn like a roman fucking candle Like a chasm in the night For a miniscule duration Ecstatic immolation Incorrigible delight