[Intro – Rain + Soft Organ]
[Thunder rolling far away]
Louisiana know floods.
Not just water…
grief.
debt.
addiction.
loneliness.
[Piano enters gently]
But somehow…
people still light candles.
⸻
[Verse 1]
🎶
Water climbin’ up the porch steps slow,
Night sky black where the river overflow.
Mama in the kitchen whisperin’ prayers low,
Tryna keep peace while the storm wind blow.
Children asleep underneath dim light,
Whole house tremblin’ through the night.
Windows shake but she don’t panic yet,
She done survived too much to quit.
One candle flicker by the family frame,
Little flame dance through the rain.
And somehow that tiny glow
Made the whole room feel less alone.
🎶
⸻
[Hook – Choir + Trumpet]
🎶
Candles in the flood tonight…
Tiny flames against the tide.
Storms keep risin’ all around…
Still we refuse to drown.
Candles in the flood still burn…
Even when the waters turn.
🎶
⸻
[Verse 2]
🎶
Daddy outside stackin’ sandbags high,
Fear hidden deep behind tired eyes.
He ain’t good with words or touch,
But tonight his silence say enough.
Neighbors yell through the pouring rain,
Checkin’ who still safe again.
That’s the thing about the South in pain—
People still show up anyway.
And somewhere through the sirens loud,
A church choir drift through the clouds.
Singin’ old hymns over flooded streets,
Like mercy itself still walk these beats.
🎶
⸻
[Bridge – Spoken + Organ]
Maybe hope ain’t loud.
Maybe hope…
just a small flame refusin’ to die.
🎶
Hold that light against the storm…
Even broken hearts stay warm.
🎶
⸻
[Verse 3]
🎶
By sunrise the water touched the door,
But the candle still burned like before.
Small…
fragile…
but alive.
And maybe that’s what faith really is—
Not certainty.
Not safety.
Not easy answers.
Just light…
that survives the dark.
🎶
⸻
[Final Hook – Full Choir + Strings]
🎶
Candles in the flood still shine…
Even when the levees fail inside.
Storms may rise and rivers roar…
But hope still live behind these doors.
🎶
⸻
[Outro – Rain Slowly Fading]
[Candle crackling softly]
The flood took a lot that night…
but not the light.
