Bouquets of flowers in your hand, bouquets on the walls, bouquets of flowers everywhere you look,
Oh it looks like someone really loves you, but what I want to know is who it is that you love?
Do you even love anyone? Or do you just like receiving affection? Leaving them with their mouths open? Begging for a drop of water after leaving them for death in a desert of their own making?
They give everything to you, and you give nothing back,
You collect it all, every single thing that makes them happy, and leave them hoping one day they’ll get it back,
What kind of life are you living now?
You’ve killed so many people, though they still breathe air, and they still sleep and wake up and go to work, still laugh and still cry, but something is broken in them, something is stolen from them,
You took it all, their hearts and souls, and you don’t even look back anymore.
Looking for a new place to start, looking for someone with a lot of love to give, can you ever get enough?
Who will be able to get around you?
Do you have the courage to let them be?
People are things to you, and things are gold and silver, but neither matter to you. Nothing matters at all, does it?
How does it feel to be you? How does it feel to keep it all inside? How does it feel to forget everything so easily?
How does it feel to forgive yourself in a blink of an eye?
Because I can’t do that, but you do it all the time.
If you were born in some other time, would you be how you are right now?
Or maybe the world was more harsher then or the world will be more harsher from now on?
Are you preparing for the inevitable that only you can see?
Be as cold as the world and you’ll never freeze, is that your philosophy?