Painting my roses red  Remember all the  Bloody things they said  Wiping my hands  That bleed  Bleeding into the dirt  That groans under me  Constantly my dirty friend  Help me roll over again  There's a fence by the road  I should climb  It was there  That my palette  And I would wait  For our paintings  To flower and stitch up  The canvas on our return  Elbow on a broken seed  Opening an angry mouth  That bleeds  Times when the grounds  Crawling like mice  Are birds and like birds  Are men and me eyes  On either side  Of my head so never  Either eye shall meet  Firey come, firey go  Burning you memory on me  There's an artist  Whose strength I admire  Who's warming his feet  By my fire  These riches he owns  Aren't the same  As the tokens we win  Playing games  We play outside