I took a blowtorch to the candle   pissed off everyone I know   now I’m flying off the handle   with a thousand miles to go      well, black coffee, booze and cigarettes   have kept me running on fumes   now I’ll call you in November   don’t expect to see me soon      I wrote a letter to your mother   said give her a kiss for me   I’m not in San Francisco proper   and I’m not with Miss Marie      keep your distance, sweetheart   don’t get a whiff of this disease   it’ll have you on the ropes   before it has you on your knees      not quite so nice   don’t ask me twice   those words turn (piss) to ice      I took a blowtorch to the candle   now I’m screaming down the phone   I speak exclusively in circles   trying to keep from dying alone      so many damn distractions   can’t stay on one thought too long   just put a flower on my tombstone   have a chuckle when I’m gone