The world is dry
From the hot, hot sun
The ground is parched
It has begun
The corn is tinder
And I make my stand
With a blazing torch
Grasped in my hand
You gave me an ultimatum
But it was never really my choice
You can cut my tongue out of my head
But still, I’ll raise my voice
The game’s stepped up, my world’s unhinged
This train’s come off the tracks
Anarchist
Firestarter
Pyromaniac