They could write you poetry
Then prick their finger twice
They could send you flowers
But they'd bathe in all the lies
The thorns could never hurt you
You fell right out from the sky
Bare your teeth, you're in another dream
Who dares to hurt your pride?
In patience, wait but what we've been
Could make us all die thrice
Your words, theyre so bemuding
Tell me, where do your thoughts lie?
If we paint t;hem on the ceiling
Would it make a pretty sky?
Scar him with your...