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From day one he was trouble
His parents knew on sight
Their bundle of pure joy and bliss
Was somehow, just not right

It wasn't in his nature
To be part of a gang
He like to be off by himself
He liked things that went bang

He was troubled in his school years
Never getting real good marks
He didn't get along with other
He was burning caps and making sparks

But when this boy found fire
Well, then....his world became real small
Never mind the big explosions
He would go and burn them all

Small fires set in dumpsters
Behind the shops, by where he ran
He'd set fire to the garbages
While he trapped a cat inside the can

He progressed on up to buildings
Made that jump, in one big way
He torched a crack house, all abandoned
Buy using gas and old, dry hay

But, the thrill was not a keeper
It wore off as fast as it arrived
He had to extend the feeling
That made his body feel alive

He knew to see his fires
He would have to volunteer
First he would go set them
Then, help put them out...I fear

It was a stroke of pyro genius
He'd set them and he'd put them out
He'd learn what gave them trouble
And he'd give them more without a doubt

He never killed another
Never burnt a persons home
He always set his fires
Where buildings always stood alone

They caught him late September
He'd burned a building late one night
It was supposed to be abandoned
But, was full of squatters, out of sight

The picture, it was famous
A hippie shaking someone's hand
It was on the front page of the paper
And it was shown through out the land

A fingerprint was lifted
A switch, that burned, not like it should
And from there, it was no problem
To lock this boy away for good

He was sent away to prison
He was gonna die there, bet on that
And on his first day in that prison
He saw an old man, who just sat

Sitting in the corner
by himself, no one around
Sat a man, all old and wrinkled
Lips were moving, but no sound

Came forth from this man's mouth, 
his lips all cracked and dry, 
You could stand right there and listen
And hear nothing if you tried...
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