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I Turn On The Light

Bad Religion

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