soundgarden
flower
All of seventeen Eyes a purple green Treated like a Queen, she was On borrowed self esteem  She would do a dance A painful masquerade Spinning you into her web Along her vain parade  In her uniform Studded brass and steel Kissing lipstick, napkin stains And smearing sincerity  Along her vain parade Along her veins  Time crept up on her She's early gray Her reflection looks concerned As flowers hit her grave