I have always thought it was beautiful here, now all the trees are dead.
Between you and me they will always be beautiful, right here in my head.
Like the trees, I live and die, and live to die again.
My leaves will grown and then they will fall, it is a cycle that will never end.
Just like how I love the trees, someone will love me the same.
They will love me when I am blooming, and they will love me when I am in vain.
They will take pictures and they will adore me.
When they finally rest beneath, they will think of all that life could be.
In the branches of my life you will search for a hidden truth.
If it is found, let it stay just just between me and you.