A man should die gaunt And not bloated and overdone There should be new words hidden In the shadows on his face And like a wine gla** in the perfect pitch, he breaks We're being dumped into order out of buckets of sea salt What was the first condiment? But always one rose grows though a littered lot of gravel Or we're struck dumb and doomed when it doesn't Flowers are how plants laugh And not by joke or to ridicule I never saw my parents Try to make a thing like me In time in the bathroom mirror I learn to accept my body I got jumped into living by a coven of midwives Under a dracula-caped eclipse Like cutting through watermelon meat with a wire You shoot sick from the hip and never miss All the things inside me I a**ume Are doing what they need to be doing And always one rose grows though a littered lot of gravel Or we're struck dumb and doomed when it doesn't Always one rose grows though a littered lot of gravel Or we're struck dumb and doomed when it doesn't Looks like a sky for shoeing horses under Looks like a sky for shoeing horses under Looks like a sky for shoeing horses under Looks like a sky for something