The Dead. Beat.

Oh, whoopsie daisy, is what you used to tell me---

isn't it?

When you put me on your knee and pumped the brakes like you did,

all [and including] my smile was yours and yours to lose

Standing up here when you're down there seems only fitting

me looking down upon you the way you did to me on most nights

When we were alone in that hole of a room

and you were the only one who had bad complexion in the moonlight

If I could kick anything but dirt in,

I would---

but I can't---

because then it would all be out in the open,

and sitting there uselessly with its big wet trunk in the corner of the room

and they would still be stuffing their faces,

and gawking.

That's what gawkers do you know, when they float in the dark parade.

When we were in that hole of a room,

and you put your hands over my mouth,

and your creases became the tributaries for all my tears

All the while---

I knew, plain and well,

the daisy was a miserable, miserable flower.