The people who leave us roses, are the ones we never knew.
The boy who longs to have you, and knows he never will.
The friends we leave behind, but who come to see us off.
The girl whose lost in her world, and so picks a rose for you.
To the ones who bring the roses, we’re the ones they never knew.
The flower boy, who wants with out knowing.
And the friends who will never know.
And to the smiling girl who hands you that rose, that you shall keep till it’s dried and old.