You search in a field for the perfect flower,
In a sea of beautiful colours and fragrant smells.
Everything is beautiful, but you’re a perfectionist.
The one she picks, isn’t the one you wanted.
I think she found a weed in a field of flowers.
You search and search in this great sea of colours,
Searching until your hands bleed but she wants The Others.
They are no good, they can never be as good as flowers,
But weeds are stronger, they last longer,
No matter how hard you try, they will still linger,
for whatever reasons, like being with their lover.
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