Flower Child— I must confess,
and please, react without distress!

Your rosy lips, my heart beguile,
each and every time you smile.
Your lilacy hairs lead me away,
into distant dreams I stray.

Flower Child— I can't express,
the joy you bring, unless?

If your bluebell eyes begin to cry,
I find that darker is the sky.
If your blooming smile begins to wane,
I feel the world as vain.

So Flower Child,
—please, be mild!