Flowers, diaries on the shelves
I wonder if they still are worth my while
Flowers, diaries on the shelves
The leaves that have gone dry by sitting there

Crisp under my feet
Amidst the thatch and thicket of words
Overhead the images of her lurk
In the pages of my diary now begging for a lover

Flowers in the bright fluorescence of eclipses tonight
Clasping the sunset, hoping the light never dies
As aging does to a venerable man
Shall my heart be left without a captain?

The pages have dust settled in them
Much like the crusted windows of a dingy inn
I had more than a crush by my teenage years
I was a victim once, until I let go of my fears

All my life's a stage, but I've played my part
Moaning the conviction I lacked from the start
Flowers, diaries on the shelves caked in dust
All that is alive tonight is the lust