I'm a junkyard full of false starts

and I don't need your permission

to bury my love under this bare light bulb



the moon is a sickle cell

it'll kill you in time

you cold white brother riding your blood

like spun glass in sore eyes

while the moon does it's division you're buried below

and you're coming up roses everywhere you go

red roses follow



the things that you tell yourself

they'll kill you in time

you cold white brother riding your blood

spinning in the night sky

while the moon does its division you're buried below

and you're coming up roses eveywhere you go

red roses



so you got in a kind of trouble

that nobody knows

it's coming up roses everywhere you go

red roses