Drained is the man sitting on the stool,
He is thoughtless and feels no more,
He was looking for himself but instead found you,
He is comfortless in his search of light in a world void of meaning.

His loneliness is like the pedal to the rose;
Without one, the other will perish.
Silently sitting he finds himself like the splendid flower;
Fragile and slowly decaying.

But just like the flower knows of its inevitable decay,
So does our dear friend,
He knows this and like the flower, he smiles to the world,
And plunging himself in thee, he feels comfortless no more.