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