The roses are dead,
But the sunflowers are not;
I live to see another day
In the desert
And I hang my tree
Along with my heart;
I live to see another day
In my woes
And the end is the end
Of a terrifying book;
A book that reads to all hearts
Where is my wavering soul?
Sunflowers in the desert
Are running out of place;
I find my poetry
To be unlisted
...Unlisted in despair
For what can become of a sunflower,
A sunflower in despair?
For we are scattered all over the earth
The earth in which we follow...