A Philosophical Momento of a Song

Today, I feel like this song.
Beautiful or sad?
I feel my clock ticking along.
Seeing the heads of flowers the next day,
Decapitated,
I wonder if they'll grow again.
If not, I ponder the short-lived existence.
Momentos made,
Hated, loved, lost, ventured...
What is the making of the wings that find it difficult to fly?
I reminisce the colors that currently feel like a lie buried in my mind,
Yet I told myself I didn't hallucinate in the moment.