Father's child
Sitting in the corner of his room was the yellow balloon;
His father had given it to him,
Just like the rose in the garden waiting to bloom.
Not much later than three in the afternoon,
In his bed laid the father's child and,
Sitting in the corner of his room was the yellow balloon.
One day in autumn filled with gloom,
Flowers began to wilt,
Just like the rose in the garden waiting to bloom.
Watching a tragedy in the darkness of the living room,
His father struggled then died, but he remembered,
Sitting in the corner of his room was the yellow balloon.
His father had passed away so very soon,
But he was ready, the son guessed,
Just like the rose in the garden waiting to bloom.
In the end it was all just certain doom,
Left alone with no one,
Sitting in the corner of his room was the yellow balloon,
Just like the rose in the garden waiting to bloom.
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