i'm a junkyard full of false starts

and i don't need yr 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 yr blood

like spun glass in sore eyes

while the moon does its 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 alive in yr blood

spinning in the night sky

while the moon does its division you're buried below

and you're coming up roses everywhere you go

red roses

so you got in a kind of trouble that nobody knows

and you're coming up roses everywhere you go

red roses