Text: Herman Dune. Whatever Burns The Best, Baby.

there's a star above my head and it wouldn't shine for me
though I've had my share of darkness and there is nothing I can see
there's a track there in the mountains there's your picture in my wallet
and there's a twelve-pack in my trunk and bag full of grass
and there are five books on your desk and a gold ring in the sink
and there are tattoos on your skin and there's carole king
and you are sitting on the stairs and you are overestimated
and there's a bunk bed in a motel and your name on my sweater
well you can set them on fire, baby
whatever burns the best, baby, whatever burns the best, baby, whatever burns the best, baby
and I was drowning in a puddle with my paddle in the sewer
I was eaten by a vortex and cast down to the bottom
and in the vortex I was dying and I called out your name
but you didn't answer much and you kept it shut instead
and I was hidden in a cave and I was all freaked out
and there were morlocks all around me and I couldn't even fight
and they were all pressed up around me and they were calling me a fag
and they stabbed me with a dagger and they beat up my ass
and they dragged me in their tunnels and they cleaned me out
but they didn't take the wallet with your picture inside
well you know now you can set it on fire, baby
whatever burns the best, baby, whatever burns the best, baby, whatever burns the best, baby
and in the junkyard in the summer in the dumpster by the river
in the old house in the wood and in the neighborhood
you can try to make it up to me by the doorway where I called you a silly ass bitch
and still you could put up with me and whatever you get your kicks on, baby
whatever burns the best, baby...