Shadows projected upon mine dreary wall
Painting murals of death and betrayal
Dancin within the flicker of the waning moon
And the candle, slowly dripping its last wax
Yet the wick still remains
It's not a fuse; it burns too slowly for measurement
Truthfully not at all
But once the wax has eroded away
Leaving my wick bare to the world
It shall sing its songs of love and longing
To which you shy away
The youthful flame dies out to be lit again
Not today, not today
It's too cold for fire now