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• Artiste: Bad Religion
• Titre: Turn On The Light
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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.