The people who watch a burning candle-
and there are other people who catch fire,
Those who leave their hearts open to handle-
And others who are enclosed in barbed wire,
Faceless people stumble through lengthy halls-
Yet there are people rich with precious soul,
While the defiant leaf begins to fall-
A broken branch chars in the glowing coals,
A field of gold is famine to a farm-
Yet wealth to an endeavoring miner,
I assure you the fire means no harm-
Yet consumes if you try to confine her,
The grey bearded man continues to cry,
Perched on the bench in his black suit and tie.