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