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