A candle is lit in the window
A year after the darkest of days
Every song played upon the radio
Torments the soul in the saddest of ways.

The pointless, the sad, and the reckless
Who've all given way to their woes,
Who wear ropes around their souls like a necklace,
Who's internal light ceased to glow.

Their friends are made of myth and material
And ruin their chances of life.
Who's friendships is more than bacterial,
But made them feel good in a strife.

The pills and the ropes and the blades
Bring with them a small bit of peace.
The voice in our head finally fades
Until eventually our veins all but cease.

There is not any strength in the finishing,
Nor shame in failing the attempt.
It does not come with refusing the crying
Or deciding to death you're exempt.

It's found in the living

When every cell in you
Wishes to take its last breath,
In forcing all marrow and sinew

And trying to overcome death.

But the candle in the window is lit
For the fighters that lose the fight,
And here we the lonely sit
Wishing on stars in the night