Burn it down. Burn it down. Burn it down. Burn it down. Burn it down. Burn it down. Every rat must have a home Vermin need somewhere to live But just how much fucking more Does this town have to fucking give? Just how many mothers’ hearts must endure this awful pain? Suffering from all those things happening on Babcock Lane? Good guys need somewhere to sleep, for death-peddlers it’s the same But this town is fucking waiting for it to all go up in flame Every rat must have a home All trash just stays where it’s left Here is that infested place Leaving mothers' hearts bereft This is the cluttered squalor that death has called its domain How many overdoses happened out on Babcock Lane? Everyone needs a home, sweet home, or so the death-peddlers claim But this town is fucking waiting for it to all go up in flame Every rat must have a home Well, there’s lots of rats out there They watch you through the garbage Through trash, those beady eyes stare Those eyes are fucking hungry, with hunger they can't explain It’s where virtue goes to die, in the Hell on Babcock Lane And Babcock Lane will kill it, then fill each body up with shame And this town is fucking waiting for it to all go up in flame Hate addiction, not the addict Pray each foot finds steady ground Well, it's a fucking earthquake For each foot that there is found And no one wants to be there, flushed right down life’s frigid drain It’s just where this life spat them, that pit out on Babcock Lane. And just how is that pit there? No clue, the county will proclaim Still this town is fucking waiting for it to all go up in flame Let us speak on that word “flame” Yeah, let’s address that word “fire” There’s a fire station next door That's so bleak. That’s fucking dire How is this fucking happening? Is there secret hidden gain? For those in power to ignore that poison on Babcock Lane? Oh, no, we just have no clue, politicians will exclaim Still this town’s desperately waiting for it to all go up in flame There’s more than just the addicts There’s the ones that fucking deal How many lives are taken there? How much potential do they steal? That’s why the words are spoken with such hate and such disdain Fuck every fucking dealer stealing souls on Babcock Lane Fuck every fucking dealer that makes this town dread that name Of that vile, grotesque Hellhole that just might go up in flame There’s more than just addiction There’s much more than just the trash If one addict is careless, A tossed match spreads like a flash Firefighters, why don’t you fix this horrific deadly stain? Cops, why aren’t you buckling down on that Hell on Babcock Lane? For each single life destroyed, this town will assign the blame To the dealers and their friends who just might go up in flame This fire is a metaphor No one take this literally It's hatred for the fentanyl And the meth that all can see May God's righteous fucking fire Burn each addict from inside May the county clean this shit up For the mothers that have cried Fuck every poison dealer That treated death like a game They sent too many home to God In that dark Hell on Babcock Lane May every single addict find their soul and it reclaim And may that vile place be just one more thing they overcame May that righteous fucking fire not be halted by some rain And may that be the fucking end of cruel Hell on Babcock Lane