Bed Of Flowers

Tick tick boom, everybody running from a sick sick goon with a lit wick fuse

Cause this is me yo, this is you now

A pretty little devil in a business suit dress

All black, stock mask and a couple mac 11s that he kept cocked back

For the contact list of the kids sean passed

'cause he never got to get a little bliss, all laughs

Admitted culprit, he etched his name on some bullets

As he filed down the trigger that's quicker when he would pull it

He cracks as a smile as he sauntered down the hall

And just fired at the occupants and started singing

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers now?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers now?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers now?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers now?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers now?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers now?

Do you really want us to sleep in my bed of flowers?

Now with both guns drawn, no one gets to wonder why he'd go nuts for

They just go run towards the sun, but blood

Is covering the windows of the closed-up doors

And everybody's screaming thinking that they got to get away from anything

And everything now resembled

And when that smoke left the barrel it looked like flower petals

He thought about his mother, brother & sister

And when he kissed her and hugged her to show he loved her and missed her

He closed his eyes as the tears fell down his grimace

When he shot himself to finish it

and dropped a note that said:

“my bed of flowers is covered in dying tulips in jumbled poses

And tightened nooses made from the crumpled roses

I hold the messages inside rhododendrons and violets

And view irises through blue irises

I broke the daisies next and sliced a narcissus

I'm a narcissist who's been choking on my baby's breath

And i might breathe

If i withstand it from the crysanthemums inside my poison ivs”

Are you prepared to wander through the endless sea of a thousand blind eyes; a brazen routine filled with characters who will never know your name? where you are nothing but an outcast, a broken villain that the zombies circumvent for the sheer pleasure of avoiding eye contact?

Will you fall asleep in a bed of wilted roses? do you really want to gather along the path of a man who has nothing written across his calloused face but bitter memories in shaky, misspelled calligraphy?

Because this, oh holy muses… this is his bed of flowers.