Nero's Fiddle

Sick though it may seemIt has always been a dream

Of mine to watch you drop

Like one million freezing flies

Psychopathic my mathematic

Always sums to zero

Population, your equation always equal heroBurn, burnSo the fruits of your labours

Have fermented into wine

And the sweat that you dripped

Is now the honey of the hive

The city is a burning sun

And I a blooming flower

The fire, the flame

The passion, the powerBurn, burnAnd you, your kindling, innocent

The fruits of your labours

Have fermented into wine

And the sweat that you dripped

Is now the honey of the hive

The city is a burning sun

And I a blooming flower

The fire, the flame

The passion, the powerBurn, burnThe fire, the flame

The passion, the powerThe fire, the flame

The passion, the power