I love you but what becomes of our promises
Was there anything in it?
Or was it all but empty
Laid to waste
Like striking matches
Igniting on the first strike
Try to hold the flame to burn
But there is no candle
To help the flame to bloom
and now I cuddle weights of anguish
When every hope in us now tarnished
My gaze is all now but empty
From wallowing in painful pity
Like striking matches
Igniting on the first strike
Try to hold the flame to burn
But there is no candle
To help the flame to bloom
A frail complexion stares back at me
I cannot hide this image I see
The form of intoxicating love that’s gone wrong
There is no meaning now in our song
Like striking matches
Igniting on the first strike
Try to hold the flame to burn
But there is no candle
To help the flame to bloom.
I got the idea of striking a match to talk about the excitement of when love starts and to make that love lasts it needs a candle to keep it burning, from a former bishop who now teaches in seminary. He’s one who is good when it comes to giving imagery and I want to learn from him. Love when it starts is like striking matches, but it needs a candle to make the flame that burns last.
