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lyrics

It's my soul
It's my heart
It's my path to build or rip apart
And replant pretty little flowers
So many pretty little flowers
It's my flesh
It's my eyes
It's my breath to keep or monetize
And join those pretty little flowers
So many ugly pretty flowers

And it means nothin' to you
Ya got yer own thing to do
And it means nothin' to me

It's my mind
It's my lips
It's my love at yer finger tips
It's my hate
It's my lies
It's my masturbation that made me go blind

And it means nothin' to you
Ya got yer own thing to do
I hope it's beautiful and free

This is the crash
This the crash
I, Death, it's time to sell myself &
See how long I last

It's my fire
It's my stress
It's my panic induced cigarette
That I keep ashing on your flowers
Then put it out on those same flowers
It's deaf ears
To my rage
It's condescending replies when I say
"I'm not a pretty little flower
and I don't want your fucking flowers"

Yeah that means nothin' to me
I got my own thing to see
I hope it means something to you

credits

from Pretty Little Flowers // Cuddles, Stat!, released December 31, 2017

license

all rights reserved

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