Taught that flowers were meant to be plucked
That they were just things to be looked at
How can I not die in a world like that?
For I myself was only a plant
Full of life yet devoid of it..
This is why I wont be silent

Try to keep a beautiful thing, and it dies..

I am a seed, unsatisfied
Always reaching with both hands
One for heaven, the other for darkness
To be uprooted or to be swallowed whole
Or to stay in the middle and avoid the fall
This is why I do not move

Pull on a chain long enough, the links come apart..

I'm drifting from my metaphors
Started writing without a direction
I see in my own words
All the pointless confusion
All the revelations
Of my inner most thoughts
Think to myself
This must make God sad..

Do you see, do you see the links coming apart?