Words and music by Jenn Lindsay

"Candles, being entirely self-consuming,
obliterated their own history."

Last time I saw you,
well you know I'd had a few.
I was above my own review,
beyond that old taboo.

Of things that pass between us,
things that pass on through,
Things bragged about and dragged about
and lied like they were true.

We never hit a tone
worth carving into stone.
Just like we'd never known,
we called each other home.

And set ourselves rules
we didn't know how to own.
You'd run from demons that I bring,
which I got from you on loan.

But a candle dies faster
when it's brighter or wind blown.

And you said dishonesty
was the surest sign of fear:
Well I admit it, I was scared,
scared and then severe.

Maybe I'll go to church
to find the kind of guilt I need'
A holy guilt that sings
and leaves pretty people pleased.

Well, you know your fear
is everybody's fear:
As quick as you could hear, dear,
that candle disappeared.