I am a stone,
And I am expired;
There's nothing left for me here.

The days erode
My will, so bold;
The rain pouring down as a tear.

You are a flower,
So pretty in bloom;
You grow forwards, always in strife.

But it is no doubt,
So you'd best watch out.
I'm sure to out live your young life.

But I want it less,
And you want it more,
Will this irony ever cease?

For while we've both grown,
We've both truly been shown,
Living is none but a tease.

 
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