1.
A single rose ain't gonna patch up anything. Neither would a dozen or ninety-nine. The scar still stays, livid and ugly, long after the wound has closed. Scatter those large blood red petals onto the floor. I care for it, I care for it not. Leave it on the cold grey cement floor. Don't imagine I would care, don't imagine I would care. Leave it, leave it, to be trampled, subject to
decay.
2.
Seems like all that we can say to each other now, is take care of yourself, and nothing more. I remember a time where we stayed up long to share our woes, that plagued us so, that plagued us so. You were the most beautiful dream, a wish I never thought could be fulfilled. And now like a dream, you're passing so quick. Tell me this doesn't have to end. That's what you told me once after all...
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