I parked on a vacant road, to get away from people and watch the planes approach Turn the music down, put the windows low. Turn the headlights off, but let the dashboard glow I try not to reminisce, cause many of these memories ain't got no kind of benefits It's the same old lick, you can paint the bricks. But your face is just a way to decorate your shit I'm the motherfuckin' man when I'm standing in it Cause I don't know how to swim, But I project the image, that i'mma go all in Got it under control, Until I grow my fins I'm still plugging my nose No surprise, stolen by the tide You can close your eyes But the hopes stay alive, and the crow gonna fly And the dope gets sold, n' other than that There's really not much to know Don't cut this rose ... This lonely rose With thorns to show It grows alone Too hard to hold This lonely rose With thorns to show It grows alone Too hard to hold Quick to tell you that she don't need a man From what I've seen I completely understand Can't stand a cat that try to make demands Plus her man said he sick of bringing beach to the sand Quickly sinking in the holiest boat. Figured he might as well drink just to keep it afloat Nope, When small things end up being gigantic Relationships go the way of the Titanic Why panic? Have some fun while it last Be happy that you even had a spot on the cast She hard to keep cause she know what men about It just took you too long before you figured it out. (Huh) Moving fast don't mean it won't end quick Why put your toes in when you can skinny dip Remember when you're with the prettiest chick There's another man that's sick of putting up with her shit ... This lonely rose With thorns to show It grows alone Too hard to hold This lonely rose With thorns to show It grows alone Too hard to hold There is a temperamental magic in the key of love and war It go, "nothing up her sleeve not even a fucking arm" Body ain't a temple if it's disassembled parts Allocated in a separate level warped send the force Tell tents severing up pell-mell dash melting Squeegee in his post to a cheesecloth silk screen evenly East coast tilt kings raised by servals Pacing up the grape vine nervous Poke jarred brain matter adequately curious Pick a perfect patsy, herd 'em back into the turnip truck Where a high arch pose as the nobles Fine yeti fur with a dire prognosis He prefer to mire with the openly grotesque Opening in a cold discotheque coat check Oh my low-tech bolt neck, go time, no myth I'm a slow death goldmine This lonely rose With thorns to show It grows alone Too hard to hold This lonely rose With thorns to show It grows alone Too hard to hold Too hard to hold...