Gardenias

The hapless hills of Hollywood Hide halfhearted happiness A hardened heroine hangs her head Hear her hyperventilate Here her hands had hammered home Her half-written history With her heart in her hands Her hands stopped holding on A penny for your thoughts A quarter for the show The truth should turn to rot Whichever way the wind blows The truth, yes a blonde, despondent from her failures Fury rages claiming innocence lost That spawned chaotic behaviors A handbag and some women's shoes Hidden on the forest floor Discovered by a hiker on the hill Haphazardly hanging out was her self-destruction And her handwritten history "I'm afraid I'm a coward. I'm sorry for everything" A penny for your thoughts A quarter for the show The truth should turn to rot Whichever way the wind blows A penny for your thoughts A quarter for the show The truth should turn to rot Whichever way the wind blows The truth, yes a blonde, couldn't give a shit about her failures Suffering in silence of a chemical imbalance That spawned erratic behavior The truth, yes a blonde, yes a blond, yes a blonde Apparent in the night, but absent come the dawn The truth, yes a blonde, yes a blond, yes a blonde Apparent in the night, but absent come the dawn Where is the country I came here to find? It's running its hands through my hair It's borders and boundaries are clearly defined It's forty-five feet through the air Only the night sky will witness my flight Without so much as a care Out past the margins of all that's finite Forty-five feet through the air It's forty-five feet from here to there It's forty-five feet through the air Forty-five feet to bliss from despair Only forty-five feet through the air It's forty-five feet from here to there It's forty-five feet through the air Forty-five feet to bliss from despair Only forty-five feet through the air It's forty-five feet from here to there It's forty-five feet through the air Forty-five feet to bliss from despair Only forty-five feet through the air The world rushes past and it's softly obscured By the quiet and stillness of death Take from me this body It's all that I have left Floating effortlessly The scent of gardenias in the air A veil should mask her face And her short blonde hair --- Gardenias - Protest the Hero