Each petal floats away.
"Does he love me,
or love me not today?"

He proved his love,
Through his pain,
he bled.
He proved it through,
each piercing thorn,
upon his head.

Another petal is pulled,
from the flowers core.

I ask in Ernest,
my question once more.

Does he love me,
or love me not?

The love he's shown,
should never
be forgot.

What more could he do
to prove to all of you,
that his love is true?

Never ending,
and always there.

He gave his life,
to show he cared.

He gave his life,
to forgive our sins.

And yet you pick another flower,
and question again.

Each petal plucked,
must be like yet another
nail.
When we doubt his love,
shall prevail.

Why do we continue to doubt,
what his love
is all about?

Why do we question,
a love so pure
and free.

When every petal plucked,
should say;
"He loves me!"

Before the last petal
falls.
I will answer,
my saviors calls.