Turn on the Light Lyrics
| Song | Turn on the Light |
| Artist | Bad Religion |
| Album | Against the Grain |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Gurewitz, Mr. Brett | |
| I had a friend who kept a candle in his pocket | |
| He used to touch it when the wind was blowin' high | |
| I guess it made him feel like he could bluff the system | |
| And when it flickered out we laid him down to die | |
| I turn on the light | |
| Turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights | |
| Yea, a beacon in the night | |
| I'll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry, ya | |
| And I'll construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses | |
| And equip with just a million tiny suns | |
| I'll install upon the room of my compartment | |
| And place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls | |
| Then I'll 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(Burn) | |
| Like a chasm in the night(Burn) | |
| For a miniscule duration | |
| Ecstatic immolation, incorrigible delight |
| zuo ci : Gurewitz, Mr. Brett | |
| I had a friend who kept a candle in his pocket | |
| He used to touch it when the wind was blowin' high | |
| I guess it made him feel like he could bluff the system | |
| And when it flickered out we laid him down to die | |
| I turn on the light | |
| Turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights | |
| Yea, a beacon in the night | |
| I' ll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry, ya | |
| And I' ll construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses | |
| And equip with just a million tiny suns | |
| I' ll install upon the room of my compartment | |
| And place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls | |
| Then I' ll 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 Burn | |
| Like a chasm in the night Burn | |
| For a miniscule duration | |
| Ecstatic immolation, incorrigible delight |
| zuò cí : Gurewitz, Mr. Brett | |
| I had a friend who kept a candle in his pocket | |
| He used to touch it when the wind was blowin' high | |
| I guess it made him feel like he could bluff the system | |
| And when it flickered out we laid him down to die | |
| I turn on the light | |
| Turn on a million blinding brilliant white incendiary lights | |
| Yea, a beacon in the night | |
| I' ll burn relentlessly until my juice runs dry, ya | |
| And I' ll construct a rack of tempered beams and trusses | |
| And equip with just a million tiny suns | |
| I' ll install upon the room of my compartment | |
| And place tinfoil on my floor and on my walls | |
| Then I' ll 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 Burn | |
| Like a chasm in the night Burn | |
| For a miniscule duration | |
| Ecstatic immolation, incorrigible delight |
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