Woman so fine, and fine as a girl
Slow like an Italian wine
Hair all a mess and a dress all disheveled
and all of your roses have died.
Better luck in the next life,
Cause you’re gonna need it, dear
Loved you back then but I couldn’t say when
All of your roses have died
Tasted your lips with my hands on your hips
Danced in apartment A9
Your cats on the sill and my head to your breast
Feeding your rhythms divine
A west Jersey queen with a rattle machine
Tasted the salt through your skin
Loved you back then, but I couldn’t say when
All of your roses have died
Better luck in the next life,
Go give ‘em some hell and goodbye
Loved you back then but I couldn’t say when
All of your roses have died
Bask in the heat down on Christopher Street
Bought you a rose from a bum
Left you a note that I stuffed in your coat
Laughed and you said it was dumb.
Broke like a stem and I guess you’re with him
I’m sure that he treats you just fine
So bottoms up cheers, baby, here’s to your tears
All of your roses have died.
the fucking BEST
