Here’re my tickets to forgotten lands
And here is the spot I’ve rooted my self
For ages waited, and waited for a glimpse
And while waiting I carved our story on stones
I didn’t know, that this sidewalk will become a memorial
And a wound that break open every year
do you believe that it overflows in winter?
do you believe it birth a flower in spring?
do you believe I faint every time I see that feeble flower?
Knowing she will be crushed under ignorant feet,
And reemerge again next spring, how unjust is that
So, is it fair if I destroy that memorial stone
But what will become of that unfortunate flower?
is anyone going to remember her violet cheeks?
or how she radiates in a dreamy moment
was she even real, was I real, were you real?
What I’m sure of is, this red stain in my chest is real