Say you love me like a flower,

Because flowers are real,

And that's what I want,

A flower that's real,

That gets old,

With the other flowers,

And then dies,

But it dies twice,

Because there are two,

Of the same flower,

They both feel pain,love,

And stress no less,

But the strange thing is,

When humans die, we bury them,

When flowers die, we keep them,

In remembrance,

Of your prescence.