Candles that burn
In the frame of a moonlit window
Runs dry and bitter
And burns out too soon
And the man that needs to see
Turns butterscotch and candy
And like a little kitten
Crawls under the blankets
For in dark rooms
Far from any mother's womb
Lives a dark race
In mind or in place
That scares muscular men from sight and space
Better then,
Candy man,
Who turns into cream and flakes
To close your eyes and sleep the dark away