With a glass vial of crystal liquid
This I bequeathed to you my darling son.
I hope you  drink of it when my life's done.

A flower is a flower, this holds true.
I don't really understand the big deal.
I mean ****, even that thing will die too.

Despite the color, be it green or blue,
There's only so much that a person can feel.
I think flowers are a waste of space, do you?

True the birds sing, and your flowers do bloom.
But does the widow care about your rose?
What about the killer? Or long lost groom?

Go ahead, sing to it; ignore your doom.
Hell, this life is so plastic; strike a pose.
But don't forget, a dead man has no room.

Maybe it's true, you're so petty; petite.
They call him a dork, a nerd, and a geek.
That he managed to live was quite a feat.

Run from the flower, think you did not meet.
Go to your future, it's the truth you seek.
Not now, don't you dare pretend to be meek.
You are one of millions, to them I greet.

The sun is set, and the souls are now dun.
The penultimate passion has elapsed;
the ultimate is enjoyed by no one.
The concept of this not even I grasp.

The adoration breeds restoration?
The universal hate will now be gone?
The final train all but left the station.
The gamemaker destroyed all of his pawns.

The scripture I write I cannot deny
The life that I lead, now it's time to die.