She's a painting outta focus with no good sense of intention she's authentic She's a model of disaster with a heart of revolution She's so innocent, but guilty's her plea Everybody wants to save her from herself, they really want to save themselves She's got the grace of a tourist, with the charm of demolition She's a poem without a meter or rhyme a random design Of a flower like a rose no one really knows She's a master piece deserving restoration or condemnation time will tell us If she's a lifer or a decomposuer she's the rose no one really knows