Wussy
Acetylene
This is not a home
This is an apartment
Surrounded by the things accumulated here

This is not a dream
This is disappointment
Pop a cork alone to toast another year

Baby, we could burn so free
If only you would turn your acetylene on me

Sorta like a cell
Kinda like a prison
Spend a lot of time in solitary there

Pamphlet on the door
Declaring he is risen
Too far out to know, too far gone to care

Baby, we could burn so free
If only you would turn your acetylene on me