I can't say I've ever been daunted by the prospect of regarding a song before. Challenged, for sure. At a loss, without a doubt. But daunted? Not so much.

Until now.

After all, what can I say about Flame Trees that it doesn't already say for itself? How can I do justice to what is possibly the greatest Australian rock ballad of the 20th century?

The answer is easy. I can't. And yet, here we are.

I don't know if it's because of my particular past this song speaks to me the way it does. I don't know if it's because I come from a small town, or whether it's because my my adolescent heart received its first bruises in that very same town. I don't know the reason. I only know it does.

Kids out driving Saturday afternoon pass me by
I'm just savouring familiar sights
We share some history, this town and I
And I can't stop that long forgotten feeling of her
Time to book a room to stay tonight

We all came from somewhere. We all have history. We've all had our hearts broken. And—for me at least—this song captures it all. The memories. The nostalgia. The unspoken, indefinable ache the years have dulled but never quite take away.

Number one is to find some friends to say "You're doing well
After all this time you boys look just the same"
Number two is the happy hour at one of two hotels
Settle in to play "Do you remember so and so?"
Number three is never say her name

That last line gets me every time. Behind the trash-talk with old friends, hidden by the hazy veneer of the good old days, the half-remembered hookups and hangovers, underneath the accumulated layers of years and life and hard-earned scar-tissue, lies the simple, plain-spoken acknowledgement—some wounds linger on.

Oh, who needs that sentimental bullshit, anyway
You know it takes more than just a memory to make me cry
And I'm happy just to sit here round a table with old friends
And see which one of us can tell the biggest lies

But of course, life moves on. We move on. We grow and we change and we deal, even if sometimes only by denial, or only on the outside. And that change, no matter how deep or profound, only highlights the poignancy of returning to your hometown, whether it be after a year or a decade or a lifetime, to find that no matter how much you might feel you've moved on, there are some things that will forever stay the same.

Oh the flame trees will blind the weary driver
And there's nothing else could set fire to this town
There's no change, there's no pace
Everything within its place
Just makes it harder to believe that she won't be around