I dwell inside the shoe box,
inside the safety deposit box,
inside the shed and you got it locked,
inside the locket on your neck and I'm walking with the dead,
I think I'm talking to myself.
I mean you speak with the devil —
every bus ride's a temple
where your headphones will level
any chance outta hell —
I think I'm talking to myself.
I get this nauseous feeling no one is listening,
even though the stars are glistening
and everything is working out.
I'm the fire you always heard about,
don't you remember? was anybody listening?
I could topple over mountains into quiet valleys
or perhaps I'll weave a highway through a silent alley.
I worked for years and paid my dowry!
how come all around me nobody's listening?

we've got a fire
in our chest
and it's a fire
that knows our name
and our fire
is burning hot
in our fire
the voice of God
we carry fire
how could we not
without this fire
we would rot
I hold my fire
like it's my child
I know the fire
the voice of God

I had a cousin who lost his head, huge fire in his chest,
camel skin tunic and a flaming life under the sun.
My cousin waist deep in a river, yes,
crowds would come to have him bless anyone who would confess
that they had the fire
but
never wore it on their tongue —
as my cousin did — fire in his lungs, fire in his gums,
fire in his palms, fire in his guts, fire in his blood,
fire on his finger tips, fire never burning up,
only ever turning up, only ever yearning for
burning love forevermore!
My cousin looked me in the eye
and with a heavy knowing sigh
we chant

we've got a fire
in our chest
and it's a fire
that knows our name
and our fire
is burning hot
in our fire
the voice of God
we carry fire
how could we not
without this fire
we would rot
I hold my fire
like it's my child
I know the fire
the voice of God