Weeping for a sorrowful man
Is weeping for a wilted flower
No amount of water, sunlight, or even love
Will ever bring back its glow.
What you will never understand,
Are these achingly long hours
No amount of worry, care, or even love
Will take away the blow
Through the skull, because life became bland,
And I didn't hold enough power
To care for myself, nor the worry, or even the love
And in due time my true colors flowed.
For weeping for a broken man,
Is like weeping for a dying flower
No amount of water, sunlight, or even love
Will ever make it grow.