• I believe that flowers are just souls rekindled,
    growing in a world made of the darkest riddles,
    chanting a lament made for a lover's ritual,
    we're all broken now.

    Haunted by the ghosts of all the passing hours,
    your heart and soul both locked inside a guarded tower,
    clinging to the theory of eternal power,
    because it's all that you have left.

    Walking through an alley made of silver silence,
    haunted by the presence of a silent siren,
    falling to your feet lost in the glowing crisis,
    of a million crescent moons.

    Come with me and tell me of the lover's you've lost,
    never really thanking them for all that you've got,
    now I'm thinking things that I would never have thought,
    if you hadn't gone away.