This bouquet of flowers you ask
'Who may they be for? '
I reply, 'They are for you, of course!
Why else would I knock at your door? '
'This bouquet of flowers is yours
They are for you and you only
They are for you to look at and cry for
And remember me when you're lonely.'
'For I have experienced a time like that
And had no friend's shoulder to cry on
I only had these flowers
And the field of which they came from
'Why would I give you flowers?
I just feel like it, I guess
What is so wrong about giving you flowers?
What makes you so distressed?