Flowers buried by me again.
Pretending not to feel the pain.
Strong with the sorrow, weak with the faith.
Sawing those feelings in a half-way place.
Not knowing what I know now, will never be released.
Fleece is so narrow I can barely speak.
I can't wait to taste the sky, with nothing to eat.
Loving it all, being loved by no one.
Collecting those flowers with just one bygone.
Living in chaos, promises kept.
Strangling the sorrow with all hated sweat.
Beginning with all and ending by one.
These flowers lay buried, death by their son.