Please please please don't allow me to die
In this field of flowers and memories
That hang on the wall left to dry
Like a photograph fading to yellow, curling at the corners, and wearing at
the ends.
And there is no source of light to clearly see what started everything that
isn't summer.
Maybe it was the change in the leaves.
Did the cool mornings become too confusing for you?
Well they did me too.
How many men will it take?
How many hearts have to break and fall to the ground along with all the
other things that have to die?
To see that you will never have all the answers?