So obsessed with the symptom of our regress
Far more than we'd like to confess

Curse the day I woke up this way
Rue the day I let my world decay

Poets will only say: Let go of those rose bouquets
They don't serve you anyway
(They don't serve you, they don't serve you)
Found their purpose, let them lay
Let go of those rose bouquets
They don't serve you anyway

It is without error, certain and most true
What lies within me also lies in you

Curse the day I woke up this way
Rue the day I let my world decay

Poets will only say: Let go of those rose bouquets
They don't serve you anyway
(They don't serve you, they don't serve you)
Found their purpose, let them lay
Let go of those rose bouquets
They don't serve you anyway

Poets will only say: Let go of those rose bouquets
They don't serve you anyway
Poets will only say: Let go of those rose bouquets
They don't serve you anyway