Fire, fire, fire

Orange, yellow and black flesh trees bloom fire, fire, fire
I'm trapped inside this Motel 6 on fire, fire, fire
Those young fists clenched in the air, make a million millionaires

Set fire to the ships on fire
Set fire to the hips on fire

Constellations strung up like barbed wire, wire, wire
I'm drinking cement like it's going out of style, style, style
Those cold hooks, cemetery claws, raking at the infant's jaws

Set fire to the horse on fire
Set fire to the dress on fire
Set fire to the stage on fire
Set fire to the stars on fire

I'm tied to a seagull's back - yeah, fire, fire, fire
And all those black-haired bandits try to lure me down with their songs and choir, choir, choir
Well I'd rather shoot up a syringe filled with fire, fire, fire
Than go to bed with sounds so vacant and tired, tired, tired

What's the sound of a cashing check?
What's the sound of a gag reflex?
Like speakers crushed beneath an empty tank
Blowing the ugly off an airbrushed face

Set fire to the drums on fire
Set fire to the lions on fire
Set fire to the house on fire
Set fire to the face on fire