V. The Allegory of the Flower, as Told by the Archivist

Future kid, oh he thought he knew
The price of love gone wrong
It's another warm day, just as any other
Forced his gaze to acknowledge foreign faces
The actors waited oh so still
Behind the curtain, future kid dressed up in paper
She hid naked behind three golden leaves

And when it rose, skin was shed in petals
And billions watched
But few were left to feed his disgrace

When the kid became the Candleman
It was all too late
Though he never once looked back
He knew he was alone

The audience and the actors were gone
Like so many dead stems
Dark and burned felt the Candleman
On his back, on the sand

But he tossed away many a framed face
And no one watched, as he let go of his disgrace
But he kept the locket, though he'd lost the key
So she'd hold him once more