Why don't you like me, my cute little flower
I plucked from a bed in some sweet-scented bower?
This beauty's not yours as those deeds were not mine:
We're both home to strange things that shall leave us in time.
Why don't you like me, my cute little flower
I plucked from a bed in some sweet-scented bower?
I know that I'm not and I know I but seem
Yet how good I would look on a game over screen.
