Go ahead, try and sweep me off my feet...
I don't believe you have the strength...
For my feet are nailed to the ground...
By my pessimistic attitude...
And your confidence is wavered...
By this protesting crowd. 

Plastic roses? Sprayed with perfume?
Impressive...
Tell me, where do you find these hints that
you exhume?
Are you a poet...or a liar who knows pretty words?
Do you notice the way the ocean moves?
Have you ever watched the sunrise?
Do you take note the flight of birds?

Do you own a heart of gold or a heart of brass?
Cheap immitations to not impress me...
As for me? I hold in my hands a heart of glass...
And I have found it's fond of breaking...
I don't ask much...
I need no expensive thing, I need no diamond, 
or jewelry.
All I want is a clear description...
Of what i mean to you...
And to understand...
What it is you mean to me...
Is that too much to ask?

You never tried to sweep me off my feet...
Now it's too late...
I have no goal to spend forever wondering...
What we could have made...
Well, my fellow poet...
Perhaps the missing piece of my puzzel...
Perhaps the box in which to hold my rose petals...
Perhaps the one thing that could have been crystal clear
when this darkness settles...
I bid you farewell.