i now am aware that flowers don't grow
when the soil they give you is dry to the bone
well, i'll stave of the drought with a watering can
that they fill with the blood of a working class man
oh well
the wind casts a breadth and the seeds toss in place
as they scatter dysphoric, they all dissipate
well, i gladly stand by as they waft in the breeze
since i had none to start, i am used to defeat
oh well
and i don't miss those rainy days
i've grown too fond of suburban decay
no, i don't miss those rainy days
on second look, who do we have to blame?