The Arsonist

As the smoke drifts away, you see a man
An empty gas can in his trembling hand
The last of the burning embers die
An evil gleam enters his eye

Now enter into his train of thought
What's this life for? He forgot
He's gone crazy. He's lost his mind
He got sick of the same old daily grind

Now he's down the road a mile or so
Hiding behind the billowing, black smoke
A hideous smile he wears on his lips
Long wooden matches you see in his grip
He stands, awestruck by the crackling flames
Obviously, he's the one to blame
As cautious police officers haul him away,
He says,"It's not over. I'll be back someday"