A Matter of Simple Deduction

I was walking alone in an unfamiliar town when the buildings started to shiver
and shake
Shimmering rain came down in sheets and then glittered like glass on the empty
streets
I could see your face in the wind;
I could hear the orchestral storm begin to sing:
«It's the end, it’s the goddamn end! Come on, baby, light that fire!»
It’s a matter of simple deduction
It’s a matter of complete control
You can hold hands with the man in the tower
But you just can’t guarantee a place for your soul
So there I was, right? Stuck in the street
Not a soul for miles, on my own two feet
Glittering glass, piles of trash, stuttering into the w-w-wind
I could see your face in the air
I could taste your skin on my lips
But this is the end, this is the END! Come on, baby, light that fire!