Rosebed
Rosebed
Before break of dawn
Let your dagger pierce into my chest
On the gorgeously prepared bed
Of ninety-nine hundred full-blown roses
Do these roses gather beneath for me?
Some Fans Have Got PHD
Her fans say they know everything of her
Her height, her weight and her character
They are constant purchasers of her recent release
They spend parents’ money on her films and CD’s
Her height, her weight and her character
They are constant purchasers of her recent release
They spend parents’ money on her films and CD’s
Once there’s factually a sex photos scandal
She’s involved, weak as a winking candle
Fans refuse to believe it’s true
To anyone talking of her they must boo
“She is the victim! She is the victim!”
“She’s my angel and impossibly the reported bim!”
Fans are scattered voicing their stuffy resistance
As if her innocence were of vital significance
“I used to be very naive and very silly.”
“I thank my fans, friends and company.”
She was smiling without a single expected tear
As if on hearing the words people should collectively cheer
Didn’t she clearly admit? Yes, maybe.
Weren’t fans dumbfounded? Just partially.
The rest are still speaking a defensive language
Thus I say some fans have got Permanent Head Damage
Pieces
Pieces
Tear me into pieces
The way I tore your love
At last my body freezes
You’ll no more deem me rough
How come I was so fed up
That I wished I hadn’t known you
Spilling the coffee in my cup
You hopped into the hustling crew
The mezzanine where we once had lunch
Is shut as if it goes into liquidation
The promise of the mysterious flower bunch
Remains in the inverse hallucination
There is a mountain
Tens of thousands of feet high
By the clear fountain
I utter nothing but a sigh
Though our sights are disconnected
I’m awfully sorry but I won’t climb
Before guilt makes my ego infected
I’m scratching this unspeakable rhyme
Tear me into pieces
The way I tore your heart
Unless memory decreases
I’ll no more deem you smart
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