To be a rose

Now, imagine a stage decorated with intention

This stage is obviously, literally, falling apart

A rose is a rose, is a rose, is a cigarette

The stage, is now decorated, with cigarette smoke

From a hundred, no, from a thousand mouths in synchrony

This is every cigarette my mother ever smoked

Dreaming to, to be a rose

But too far to be a rose

I was singing in my room

She smoked on the balcony

Long inhales and long exhales

Performed in choreography

Over our dead-end town

Smoke moving delicately

Dreaming up the summer air

Like our real body

To be a rose

But too far to be a rose

Music travels dressed in hazer

Dressed as us, if you didn't get it

If you didn't get it

And so I dress in the stage

The microphone, the flowerbed

Underneath is curtain calling, follow me, flower instead

Give me a rose

Too far to be a rose