i now am aware that flowers don't grow   when the soil they give you is dry to the bone   well, i'll stave of the drought with a watering can   that they fill with the blood of a working class man   oh well      the wind casts a breadth and the seeds toss in place   as they scatter dysphoric, they all dissipate   well, i gladly stand by as they waft in the breeze   since i had none to start, i am used to defeat   oh well      and i don't miss those rainy days   i've grown too fond of suburban decay   no, i don't miss those rainy days   on second look, who do we have to blame?