I can be the dyed rose petals scattered on your bed
Whispering of love's lost chances, piercing veins instead
Now we've scattered too, like them, who've long since lost their voice
No pleading stem of life to speak on every reckless choice.

Yet I could still be condensation on your dawn's stained glass
A window pane of violet scenes, still bleeding for the past
Your junkie pride was all I seeked, and when it met my rain
These lilacs bloomed inside me and they died soon as they came.

For each cold rose and melody you blessed me with in June
I laid out a piece of myself to dry and be reborn from you
I can be the dyed rose petals on your bed once more
Whispering above your head, and gazing from the floor.

I could be most anything you'd ever wish and more
Lying on your bed of sin with rubies to adorn
Glimmering, glaring, burning at night
To live in poison galore
But when I leave, and night's magic deceives
I'm left silent when asked "What for?"

Yes I could be the cold gun metal in your nightstand drawer,
Waiting for your mouth to clutch until your jaw is sore
I could be your faithful fiend
You'll never find me bored
And I could tell them anything
So long as they don't ask "What for?"

I could be your snake of greed
Be tainted by your dirty deeds
And I could be your shot gun tease
The last one you adore
Yes I could be most anything
Bear with me as I try to dream
Of somehow I could someday seem
To let you know what for.