I do what I do so it shouldn’t be an issue
Quick to refuse, and easy to dismiss you
Some question why I act the way that I do
Ever wonder, “maybe it’s me and not you?”
And then others just have no clue
They’re quick to assume without any room
I won’t ask for handouts, my petals are in full bloom
I’ve had it up to here
They drown in my vase, and then ponder in doom
You ever wonder why a rose has thorns?
I’m not to be groomed
Everywhere I grow, the grass instantly moves
Other flowers wither while I’m in the groove
You thought I was yours to choose…
You thought I was yours to choose?
There’s a reason why that rose grew from concrete.
I’m not easily moved.