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 mad 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 rock of tempered beams and trusses
And equip it with a million tiny suns,
I'll install upon the roof on my compartment
And place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls

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

Writer : GUREWITZ, BRETT
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group