These candles are not dancing.
Well of course not, nor the flames
They're calling while you're romancing
In a language they can't explain
We can all see it but none speak it
So the messages are lost
The language of breathing fire
Casting shadows from across
They exhaust themselves with candles
When the flame gives out they speak

Then we hear the voice that was talking through the fire
I saw but could not know
Only the dying breath made waves my ears require
There was actually something in the warm glow
I could smell the words you would tell me
Every sense took in your messages but I (ignored) (mistook) (how could I have known) them as mundane

Every sun must cast a shadow
Every candle is the same.