White, white, white.

White is all you see.

You rush onto the field believing that it is just a dream.

Oh, these daisies are a sign within this very dark place.

Lost in this seemingly endless cave, you can finally see the light.

The light, why, it’s no light at all!



These daisies are real,

And innocence reigns over you once more.

It’s caught you in its attractive Victorian ideal.

It’s all you’ve ever asked for.



These white daisies are here to embrace you,

As tears stream down your enlightened cheeks.

These daisies seek something that they could possibly call new.

You are their voice, from which speaks,

Speaks of a joyous time.

Times when charcoal didn’t stain after every single crime.