Two young flowers in a grim winter’s morn
One for tender love, one to ride the storm
Waving with the wind, breathing in the blues
Waving, waiting, breathing through the noose
Two weary flowers in a grim winter’s morn
One of them is wild, one of them is gone
Fighting with her fate, sinking in the storm
Waiting, fighting, riding through the storm
Fighting with the wind, sinking with the storm
Two dead flowers as out comes the sun.
A little tribute from my side to Mandela, Gandhi and every other great of similar ilk and life.