Incinerator, what have you done this time?
I heard the air raid siren go off,
To settle attraction, you like to subdivide,
Don't you want shelter from your desire, a place to hide?
Incinerator, this is not about sex; it's about a personal slant,
You like to watch me, I like to disappear,
Electrical contact, our blik entices the stratosphere.
Incinerator, go on and go right through me,
Have your search, and tell me what you've found,
That I'm made of fire, and your flame won't get to me,
I don't have your number 'cause I can't count to eternity.
