You

I can be the dyed rose petals scattered on your bed Whispering of love's lost chances, piercing veins instead Now we've scattered too, like them, who've long since lost their voice No pleading stem of life to speak on every reckless choice. Yet I could still be condensation on your dawn's stained glass A window pane of violet scenes, still bleeding for the past Your junkie pride was all I seeked, and when it met my rain These lilacs bloomed inside me and they died soon as they came. For each cold rose and melody you blessed me with in June I laid out a piece of myself to dry and be reborn from you I can be the dyed rose petals on your bed once more Whispering above your head, and gazing from the floor. I could be most anything you'd ever wish and more Lying on your bed of sin with rubies to adorn Glimmering, glaring, burning at night To live in poison galore But when I leave, and night's magic deceives I'm left silent when asked "What for?" Yes I could be the cold gun metal in your nightstand drawer, Waiting for your mouth to clutch until your jaw is sore I could be your faithful fiend You'll never find me bored And I could tell them anything So long as they don't ask "What for?" I could be your snake of greed Be tainted by your dirty deeds And I could be your shot gun tease The last one you adore Yes I could be most anything Bear with me as I try to dream Of somehow I could someday seem To let you know what for.