I started a fire. One thing that i know for sure is that the big, bad fires gonna steal my soul.

I built a campfire in an abandoned swimming pool in Beverly Hills. I knew something was wrong when my drum machine flew away. A blazing boy formed into flesh out of the fire with cobras for teeth. Drinking wine from the moon roses out of the cup of a models skull.

Don't be scared Johnny listen to me oh the fire opened his scrapbook. When he showed me all the places he'd been oh his frail frame twitched and shook. I saw a famous actress with a skin graft night gown and the ovens of a Nazi death camp, project housing burned to the ground, Van Gough paintings with the sunflowers singed black.

"I can't help the horrors of my hands," the fire-boy started to cry, and some annihilating beauty light up the night. "Have you ever seen those jet white zeppelins shipping dead soldiers up to heaven? You can have any piece of ass if you want it you can have all the money in the world if you want it, boy you're a young god and you know it."

"Hey mr. fire, where do you go when you're lonely?"