Burning the midnight oil
How does the song go?
How do we sleep while our beds are burning?
The answer’s obvious
There’s no sleep until the fire’s out
No rest until the dance is done
When the fever takes hold
When the combustion spontates
There’s only raw, blistered imperative
We rake the coals
Pump the bellows
Hold on tight to one another
And fire-walk through the inferno
Of the night.