The air is spiced and on a bed of poppy’s I slept with delight
Elated, I lay careless sprawled in complete disguise
I am a kind of flower, unafraid and unabashed, 
Delicious, claiming belonging, I had entered a state of sweet oblivion
Submitting in a trance, the history was recalled 
How from the edge of a cliff, my feet touched the open air 
I fell, feet first, faith without a care
Decided in a rush, the wind in my frizzy kinky hair,

I let go of myself in nervous sweet escape of night
I took the long dive, no wings or fear

But you weren’t there

It was the crash, the splatter 
The shame of it all
The guns and roses, the scatter of me all
And I am all over the floor. 

But I rose, I’ve always been that rose
Watch me recollect all my scatted parts in patterns of a new disarray 
Filled in bags of sack, I’ve gathered all my petals
The shame, the shame me not's,
The wished, the wished you not's,
How you yearned for my decoration
And how I waited for your salvation. 
The beating anticipation
All day, around the clock, serving
The sky was clearing for a suspected holy annihilation
Concaved, I must have been  dug in until I was almost a shell

 
Yet I escaped it all, 
All on my own, 
I celebrate the fall, a new call
And from this one I’m sober
No longer drunk with euphoria. 

So I pierced that reality like the rays of new light, too soon each day 
Don’t you find it strange how it’s cold but my soul is alit?
How my spirit springs in full bloom under the high moon in the middle of June?
 A rose all Sprawled, pretty, dainty and careless lying on the bed of poppy’s 
We are the flowers of this desert place,
Well-watered on a cold barren African mountain,
We are the confliction
A truthful lie.