I am a flower.
aɪ əm ə ˈflaʊər.
Yes, I’m beautiful.
jɛs, aɪm ˈbjutəfəl.
I’ve heard it before
aɪv hɜrd ɪt bɪˈfɔr
and it never grows old.
ənd ɪt ˈnɛvər ɡroʊz oʊld.
I’m worshipped for my looks,
aɪm ˈwɜrʃəpt fər maɪ lʊks,
my scent… my looks. But here’s the thing.
maɪ sɛnt… maɪ lʊks. bət hɪrz ðə θɪŋ.
Life starts with me.
laɪf stɑrts wɪð mi.
You see I feed people.
jʊ si aɪ fid ˈpipəl.
Every fruit comes from me.
ˈɛvəri frut kʌmz frəm mi.
Every potato: me. Every kernel of corn: me. Every grain of rice: me.
ˈɛvəri pəˈteɪˌtoʊ: mi. ˈɛvəri ˈkɜrnəl əv kɔrn: mi. ˈɛvəri ɡreɪn əv raɪs: mi.
“Me, me, me,” I know… but it’s true.
“mi, mi, mi,” aɪ noʊ… bət ɪts tru.
And sometimes I feed their souls.
ənd səmˈtaɪmz aɪ fid ðɛr soʊlz.
I am their words when they have none.
aɪ əm ðɛr wɜrdz wɛn ðeɪ həv nʌn.
I say “I love you” without a sound, “I’m sorry” without a voice.
aɪ seɪ “aɪ lʌv ju” wɪˈθaʊt ə saʊnd, “aɪm ˈsɑri” wɪˈθaʊt ə vɔɪs.
I inspire the greatest of them.
aɪ ɪnˈspaɪr ðə ˈɡreɪtəst əv ðɛm.
Painters, poets, pattern makers: I’ve been a muse to them all.
ˈpeɪntərz, ˈpoʊəts, ˈpætərn ˈmeɪkərz: aɪv bɪn ə mjuz tə ðəm ɔl.
But in my experience, people underestimate the power of a pretty little flower.
bət ɪn maɪ ɪkˈspɪriəns, ˈpipəl ˈʌndəˈrɛstəmət ðə ˈpaʊər əv ə ˈprɪti ˈlɪtəl ˈflaʊər.
because their life does start with me,
bɪˈkəz ðɛr laɪf dəz stɑrt wɪð mi,
and it could end without me.
ənd ɪt kəd ɛnd wɪˈθaʊt mi.