Weeds                                                     
I've got a garden of these flowers that won't grow.
It's full of weeds, of seeds, of speed and suck and blow.
There are no colors here, but there's plenty black to spare.
You use my dandelions milk to wash your hair.

In the flowerbed there is a pillow made of moss,
that you can use for free, cause me I've got no cost.
You lay yourself down where my lillies meet the light.
Behind the bush of berries you can lose your sight.
 
You could be my sun, you could be my sun and water.
You could be my velcro flower and I,
I'll be your daughter she said.

My cheeks are roses but my eyes are simple thorns.
I've hugged the pure of beaten black and blue newborns.
I held a child who would never be able to see.
I held it close because it's what I used to be.

I use my hose to whip my earthclay in to shape.
I tried to grow fruit, But you turned out sour grapes.
The clouds are comin' yeah and I see it's gonna rain.
You shoot up nectar in your blossom hungry vein.

You could be my sun, you're the weed my urine waters.
You could be the weeds that spread and I,
I'll be your daughter she said.

A garden's used for any day that turns out fair,
for it produces all the fruit that feeds despair.
I tried to think of ways and lost my nights of sleep.
I know now I can dig you up,
your roots don't run that deep.