Lying in a field, of tulips so red                                                              ­                    
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Endlessly staring, into nothingness                                                      ­                                      
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Is anyone caring? Am I being missed?                                                          ­                                        
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Frozen in time, left in this place                                                            ­                    
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The days go by, slow as a snail's pace                                                            
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Winter blows in, I'm chilled to the bone                                                             ­     
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When summer comes, I'm still not home