And where have roots to grow But down and out? I kept it in my pocket, babe But it all got out This could be a little more green If you would just listen to me _____ (paper plane?) And every fold ______________ [From] the blood in my veins To the leaves of my tree(?) ______________ Plain sh**, I'm brittle(?) The bud of my form, it's the hive of my bee(bane?) I can't atone for the sins of my breed(brain?) And where have I to go But inside out? I kept it in my pocket But it all got out I say this is less than pristine But you're not even looking at me You've always got to make a scene With each discrete inequity If two are a crowd ______________ and I'm dreaming aloud And if I could find a way Then, I'd use this wings and fly away But ______________ ______________ ______________ I'm trying to keep it small _______ so afraid(?) And every time I try It interrupts the game I can't apologize ______________ (you will never change?) And I think it's strange That we don't fit in frames We're less like photographs And more like ______________ ___________ That's the final time __ punctuate our lives With these ordinary lines [repetition]