It's a candle slowly having its wax melting and falling silently on a cold wooden floor
With each drop I come a step closer to the door.
And if it keeps on burning the same way it's burning now,
I'll go in and out the window until I hit the ground.
When the candle has its last little piece burnt
I'll be long gone and my body will be cold
And when there's nothing left out of the candle
I'll be long forgotten by all the people that promised they'll remember.
Candles and their way of slowly melting away. Dying while they still give out their last scent.