Moths
to a Flame
Why do they keep on, those crazy do-gooders?,
There’s no-one to praise them, no glory to earn,
Well, I’ve finished with caring, and half-baked messiahs;
Yet something still haunts me, burns deep down inside me.
I can’t settle down despite all that I've learned.
I’m growing older, more resigned
I’ve left my fighting days behind.
Though caring keeps its old seduction
Its heroes always end the same:
They fly to their destruction
Like moths into a flame.
For childhood certainties deceive, don’t they?
There is no promise to believe, is there?
The fight is never worth the cost, is it?
I shouldn’t cry for what I’ve lost, should I, should I?
So what makes fools live fairytales,
Risk all on love that always fails?
The raging, bleeding world ignores them,
Or tries to smother them with fame.
What is the light that draws them
Like moths into a flame?
It isn’t sensible to try, is it?
Those siren voices only lie, don’t they?
The world will never be re-made, will it?
The laws of life will be obeyed, won’t they, won’t they?
Why do these people mock my brain
With tales of peace I can’t attain?
I can’t see why their lives should nag me;
They’ve never learnt the human game.
Why does some power drag me
A moth into a flame?
It isn’t sensible ....
It isn’t sensible ....
.... And there is nothing I’ve betrayed, is there, is there?
Is there?