Blossoms in red.
But you think they’re gonna die. No matter. The bed is ready.
Look at this snowy plain. Do you share something with it?
Do you care to speak for it before you die?
It is so innocent; you can’t blame anything for it.
Do you mind, sleeping with it til spring comes?
Roses shall rise in you, your sadness, all your
Bad dreams will blaze in fire.