Frying into fire

I hold a dead-pan in my hand I'm just a splatter of a man I've got a rusty heart and a dusty brain I've got aches and they've got names I hop from frying into fire I light the match that starts the blaze Then throw myself upon the pyre And lose all sight amidst the the haze Sometimes days just feel the same I wake up feeling pretty lame A lonely bag at baggage claim An old picture in a frame If I destroy the things I hate I'll end up killing what I love All purpose goes a flash in pan I crush the bird that's in my hand I hop from frying into fire I light the match that starts the blaze Then throw myself upon the pyre And lose all sight amidst the the haze And if all this is just a game Could you please tell me what's the aim? Are the winners ones with fame? And are the losers those we blame? I wake up lying on the ground And all I hear is but a sound Of nothing really quite profound The clock is always counting down I hop from frying into fire I light the match that starts the blaze Then throw myself upon the pyre And lose all sight amidst the the haze