She?s a painting outta focus with no good sense of intention she?s authentic
She?s a model of disaster with a heart of revolution
She?s so innocent, but guilty?s her plea
Everybody wants to save her from herself, they really want to save themselves

She?s got the grave of a tourist, with the charm of demolition
She?s a poem without a meter or rhyme a random design
Of a flower like a rose no one really knows
She?s a master piece deserving restoration or condemnation time will tell us
If she?s a lifer or a decomposuer she?s the rose no one really knows