Nero's Fiddle

Sick though it may seem

It 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 equals hero

Burn

Burn

So the fruits of your labors

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 power

Burn

Burn

And you are kindling, innocent

The fruits of your labors

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 power

Burn

Burn

The fire, the flame

The passion, the power

The fire, the flame

The passion, the power