I'm underwater, while inside, there's a thunder.
The roses wither, leaving only their thorns to hide that all beauty is gone.
Time passes so slowly that my life is already over. I wish the clock would run faster.
And when some wishes are granted, there will only be a pile of bones.

The flowers will be watered with tears, or perhaps there will be no one to feed them.
I don't even care, I don't want some people to be here for me while they haven't when I was still here.

I hate them for making me think that they could still change, and they did, but only with the purpose to be meaner.