This is the first I thought this, but I really liked it.
And that's abnormal, but makes a lot of sense.
And I don't really understand why I still think about you, but there's a lot of other people I think about that I left behind in one way or another.

So I'm a sunflower, or black eyed Susie, and you're a ***** with thorns, but you're just as elaborate as a passion flower.
I liked the way you looked just about as much as I like flowers.

But the thing that's similar is that when we wilt we will look just the same.
And my dear, my darling, that's a shame.
Cause I wish we would have never left the garden.
But we were picked, and that was it.
Now we're just waiting for death.