I see you bringing me flowers as a bribe,
Shame, you’re just giving me a blossoming part of something in pain.
It is just something dead rolled on cheap plastic,
I have to give them water to make sure they suffer longer,
And I have to smell their closing death,
And you’ll tell everyone about how I melt after you gave me something dead,
Watch the fallen petal,
Read the butterfly which missing its flower,
Because it and I both died inside.
The smelly small dumpster waiting for its body,
And you’re waiting for me to back caressing your body,
Let’s call it a night.
Let’s call it a vodka night.