| Rose leaves on a palm of a hand
|
| Exposure will make them ascend
|
| Careful not to clench too tight
|
| They lose color
|
| And leave just a memory behind
|
| These days are a dime a dozen
|
| Run-down shelter gaining strength
|
| From troubles' demise
|
| Gaunting thoughts will step aside
|
| One less but the leaves will bloom
|
| Can one perfect day
|
| Compensate all the grief I’ve felt?
|
| Can one thriving leaf
|
| Replace a withering crop?
|
| Can one perfect day
|
| Compensate all the grief I’ve felt?
|
| Can one thriving leaf
|
| Replace a withering crop?
|
| When all the others are lost
|
| All this time
|
| I’ve filled my hands with emptiness
|
| A swirl of wind has taken them
|
| All this time
|
| I’ve filled my hands with emptiness
|
| But from this point forward
|
| I’ll remember to keep them safe and sound
|
| I won’t forget
|
| what it is to stumble through the dark waters
|
| I won’t forget
|
| that in the deepest abyss I still have red in my hands
|
| Red in my hands
|
| In my hands!
|
| All this time
|
| I’ve filled my hands with emptiness
|
| A swirl of wind has taken them
|
| All this time
|
| I’ve filled my hands with emptiness
|
| But from this point forward
|
| I’ll remember to keep them safe and sound
|
| All this time
|
| Emptiness
|
| But from this point forward
|
| I’ll remember to keep them safe and sound
|
| All this time
|
| I will remember |