So long
to the lemonade sun
the E. Taylor eyes sky
The watermelon green grass
waves in the wind wondering why
And did you notice
that the thick air
doesn't match the thin hairs
left in the brush of the dead girl?
And did you think twice
did you realize that
the bright sun doesn't match
the violet velvet sky
wannabe rockstar tights
the bright lights won't turn on.
Do you think those tender thoughts
danced like ludacris imps
as the red of her mothers dress
left her hands and her chest?
Do you think she thought of the dress
or the fact she'll never wear it?
The lemonade sun laughs and jokes about
the velvet violet sky and how
it'll never be as pretty but
Who the fuck likes lemonade?