Roses

There are crimes left to commit.
You and I
an anxiety attack waiting to happen.
Breathe through this one, I think we may just pull through.
If not, falling short has never been a problem for me in the past.
My life expectancy is low anyhow...
Making my nose bend out of shape.
One always has trouble to stop and smell the roses
when ones nasal passages are slammed shut.

You always forget to take notes
so I might as well say it again:
I don't expect much of my life
and if the record must show anything
to prove your violent case of the "mondays",
or blatant evidence of disregard for any sort of emotional connection,
I would like to repeat again into the microphone
how I'm sitting alone in the dark pretending to know what to say to you.

Why should I even bother:
Because i would like to know the fragrance of a rose again...