The white roses have died
Is it me or my pride
That I always remind you of how my favorite man died
I know I’m a burden, I scream on the inside
Walking on eggshells
Tiny glass fragments
When you threw the vase at the wall because you couldn’t find your glasses
The white roses, they’ve died anyway
Entered a state of decay
Quite like I have, and it’s how I will stay
The light has left me, what do you make of my remains
I’m more revolting every day

Chaos and butterflies
Surprise me with flowers
Plant a tree every time you yawn when I talk about my interests
If this isn’t love or lust then what is this
Why do I sit on your lap every time you come around
How come I put my face to a pillow so that I don’t make a sound
How come you told me that the next time I get lost you hope I won’t ever be found
Like pitch black surround sound

I turn to the other side
I do my best to hide
Is that another exhibition of my pride?

You told me you loved to listen
You lied
Ten thousand times