Montreal Geisha
A deep beneath the long and creeping
branch shadows of the hanging tree
Under it's protective glare in it's barren
tainted garden fair shackled down
in stocks
It's 1 and only single rose prances like a
dancing horse following whichever way
the waning waxing moon doth flow to
the salty sea breeze
As in the day the sun makes hey and
steals away the subtle scent it safely
stowed away inside it's brittle stem
In order to sharpen up it's prickly
thorn's it uses to keep and ward
errant stranger's passing bye from
praising it away
To give a lover as a gift so as to
prove his or her undying love or
total and utter commitment unto them
Or instead to place upon an unknown
paupers grave
Where sadly enough as well not a
1 single mourner came to see them
on their way
Oh
Sweet pasty Montreal
Service Geisha Girl
None of this makes sense at all
Certainly not life
Certainly not death
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