Behold this crimson night It's 451 Farenheit Burn your bridges, burn each page They've earned respect reflecting rage Now raise your gaze into the sky These flames are crawling up so high To touch the heavens, touch the stars And avenge the stench of branding scars Then heaven's hosts all shook their heads And seraphs wept from heaven's beds As aspirations to be kings Made fallen angels clip their wings And may this pride each day restore The joys of bittersweet remorse For all who trod this earthen vale Will soon be silent, low, and pale.