All the lilies in the garden

We're picking flowers from the garden even though they will be angry.

Loves me, loves me not, orange leaves falling on grass. I'm angry, filled with hatred. The white lilies have withered. Vases filled with petunias, I'm showing you how I feel but you can't see. My fingers have bled from picking my mother's roses. I tried to give you my regret but you wouldn't take it.

Autumn is covering us with a hazy blanket. I will close my eyes and let you go.