Roses grow to be food for worms
Poets love that shit
Microphones keep spitting songs
No one seems to need
Do baby baby
Roses grow to be food for worms
Poets love that shit
Microphones keep spitting songs
No one seems to need
Not so cold in this cold December
As Decembers used to be
Not so cold by the dying embers
Of the boy who once was me
Roses grow to be food for worms
Poets love that shit
Microphones keep spitting songs
No one seems to need
Do baby baby
Roses grow to be food for worms
Poets love that shit
Microphones keep spitting songs
No one seems to need
Don't baby baby
Try me
Try to
Drive me your way
Try me
Try to
Drive me your way
Roses grow to be food for worms
Poets love that shit
Microphones keep spitting songs
No one seems to need
Roses grow to be food for worms
Poets love that shit
Microphones keep spitting songs
No one seems to need
Don't baby baby
Try me
Try to
Drive me your way
Don't baby baby
Try me
Try to
Drive me your way
Don't baby baby
Don't don't baby baby