This is a song about arrogance. Too often, I feel we as a society (the moths) give our attention to the loudest presence in the room (the flame) at the cost of the genuine voices amongst us (the candles). How much better of a place the world would be if, rather than celebrating the flames as we do now, we instead tried to emulate the candles. You can find a link to a video of me singing the song here to help give you a sense of its rhythm.
Atop a candle sits a flame,
and flames they all do burn the same;
from the wick they flicker in the night,
each fluctuates but still burns bright,
you’ll see,
it’s not a matter of reality.
And the moths they flock around the glow
for show outshines the dull of know
and the candles without a flare
are flown by without a care for
the moth knows not the beauty of a scent,
only the light of that which it will never get.
And as the flames take in their air
from moths around without a care,
in them the idea radiates
that one must always shine great.
Oh no!
To reach high even when you’re feeling low.
But flames are fickle, weak at best
and feel dim just like all the rest,
still the candles without a flare
are flown by without a care
for the moth knows not the beauty of a scent,
only the light of that which it will never get.
And as the flame flutters about,
a lonely moth begins to doubt
and blows upon the flame to find
a burnt and withered, blackened rind.
Well well!
The lure of fire just a simple spell.
For attention whether earned or not
can take root in the mind and rot
making anybody feel that they’re a flame
and it’s a shame.
But me I’ll take the candles,
the quiet and forlorned,
who put forth their beauty
without want of being adorned.
Me, I’ll take the ones forgotten,
the ones who’ve been ignored, downtrodden.
Me I’ll take the ones labeled weak (no they can feel).
Me I’ll take the one labeled a freak (no they are real).
Give me the ones who aren’t the same.
I’ll take the candle not the flame.
Worn Out Shoes 