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Monday burn Plato

Wednesday Spinoza

Friday Nietzsche

Burn 'em to ashes

Then burn the ashes

451, the salamander

These are our distinctive marks

Black hair, black brows

A fiery face

We look like multiples

I work at the firehouse since my 20th Birthday

Like my father did

Like my grandfather did

I'm a fireman

I'm not allowed to read

That's against the law

Books must burn

Monday burn Plato

Wednesday Spinoza

Friday Nietzsche

Burn 'em to ashes

Then burn the ashes

451, the salamander

These are our distinctive marks

Black hair, black brows

A fiery face

We look like multiples

The detection of the hostile books

Is done by a instrument

Which isn't dead but also not alive

Made out of brass and copper

With spider-like legs

The mechanical hound

For quite a while now

It feels like the beast is focusing on me

But why? It's just a machine made to seek books

Is it paranoia or well-grounded fear?

Is there a bug in the system of this monster

Or does it smell the aroma of books

Which might be on my hands

After all these years?

I tell the firechef about my fear

But he says it is impossible

That the hound growls at me

To err is human