BLOOD GARDENS

I tend to my underserved garden
Sharp boys still cry for their mothers
I overshare and ask for no pardon
Whatever helps the grass grow higher and higher

Blood on the grass, well it helps the grass grow
Too high to feel is not a feeling
Well, I pour my blood in the garden so the grass grows
Too sad to love is way too easy, easy

Painting the blue skies over
The sharp boys still bleed like the soft ones
I’m trying to keep my composure
Whatever helps the grass grow higher and higher

Blood on the grass, well it helps the grass grow
Too high to feel is not a feeling
Well, I pour my blood in the garden so the grass grows
Too sad to love is way too easy, easy