One may dismay as I sit alone among the flowers of May What will they say? I'd rather not say They just watch the display of me as I decay Crying alone among the flowers of May Mummers and whispers that I replay Left in sorrow at the end of the day A heart made of glass and a mind made of clay Moulded into many in the wonders of the day What a mess! Is what they all say Left all alone again among the flowers, the flowers of May