The flowers are taken and they took the dead.
The flowers did my place and they will be my final way.
The flowers are alive only one second for dollar
and I'm alive only one second for breath.
Maybe I will be the last flower in this countryside
and maybe they'll becomes the firsts in my dream.
I remember the joke and the sunny morning
and I remember the hungry state.
I lost a petal for the first time
and I sang to me "It's just a little one".
Together will be broken and together will be recomposed
but also I ask to me sometimes "why I forget the own hole
that will be our last and leather and silver countryside".
Maybe the flowers take the rest.
