I tried and gave up before I got killed from the choking smoke.  I couldnt save a book from the old flames scolding ambers.  I watched it all do itself in.  Later I scattered beer and clear **** over the ashes.  And thought of my old garbage:
Everything lost its meaning,
The Picture frames
And Tv sets,
My hawain legg lamp,
Their all at home with earth again.
I heard fires good for earths rejuvanation.
It takes us back home again,
Our real home, even if it seems like a soiled creamatorium once in a while.