The roses pedals fall to the floor
Waving in a downward loop
Landing in a pile of more
A slowly browning little group
No water left to feed it
No sun light in the room
So on the table it will sit
And realize its doom
It was once so bright and free
Once so innocent
It looks back on its life and sees
How wasted time was spent
Such a beautiful flower
Growing in a field of fruit
And then how it did cower
When it was cut off at the root
As the last pedal slowly falls
It sees it had no choice
It could not make all the calls
Because it had no voice
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