Imagine if you will,
a flower in a glass cage.
Unable to breathe, yet keeping its beauty;
It dies of both circumstance and age.
Imagine now how you'd taken my heart,
Tossed it in a box and threw away the key...
It tried to beat its way out of the enclosure,
but in the end, there was nothing left of me.
And so I laughed, a sound most melancholy,
As I press the barrel against your head.
The only flower that will satisfy me,
Is the rose that blooms when you're finally dead.