Within the darkness there is a solitary flame.
Flickering, nobody but the wind to blame.
The wind could do nothing, no, not even faze.
Next, the cold and damp rolls right in.
Now the blanket of warmth is turned thin.
The flame is now much weaker in this gloomy haze.
Within these conditions the flame cannot thrive.
No, within these conditions the flame cannot survive.
Now dying alone in this darkness, no longer the previously warm blaze.

These elements can't help who they are.
Just as much as a sun can't help being a star.
The flame just does not belong here.
Where it faces the cold and gloom in fear.
It must leave and return,
To the place where it can be bright and burn.
There it can thrive.
There it can surely survive.