Have I not been there before
Indeed your flower has changed lacks scent
But a lily brings death thoughts to mind
And scent does attack a bee like me
To taste what there I might find
Will I vomit up your nectar to
Or take you back to make honey of mine
It's a concrete jungle out there little flower
Fair's chance is what you will find
Defined not by the thought of your brother
But by the hand that knows Fair's mind
