Love me in the language of artificial flowers, like a dry desert
I've always wanted a bouquet that would never wither
Unaware of the tinny thoughts
Always a montage of dissimilarities
I can't be someone else, Friday, in a dream
Earrings that are still rusty
The calendars I forgot to turn over, don't leave it
Love me in the language of artificial flowers, like a dry desert
I've always wanted a bouquet that would never wither
Forgive me with the words of artificial flowers, with a burnt heart hidden inside
The paranoia I secretly nurtured, the flower of melancholy blooms
I found a scar, and things got awkward
I couldn't bear your pain
Always hurting, though I am not sensitive to pain
I ran away into the tepid night
I couldn't even say goodbye
In the season of swaying and dancing
Scattered memories
I'll gather them into a bouquet
I'll give it to you
Love me in the language of artificial flowers, like a dry desert
I've always wanted a bouquet that would never wither
Forgive me with the words of artificial flowers, with a burnt heart hidden inside
The paranoia I secretly nurtured, the flower of melancholy blooms