Gardenias - Protest The Hero

The hapless hills of Hollywood

Hide halfhearted happiness

A hardened heroine hangs her head

Hear her hyperventilate

Here her hands had hammered home

Her half-written history

With her heart in her hands

Her hands stopped holding on

A penny for your thoughts

A quarter for the show

The truth should turn to rot

Whichever way the wind blows

The truth, yes a blonde, despondent from her failures

Fury rages claiming innocence lost

That spawned chaotic behaviors

A handbag and some women’s shoes

Hidden on the forest floor

Discovered by a hiker on the hill

Haphazardly hanging out was her self-destruction

And her handwritten history

«I'm afraid I’m a coward.

I’m sorry for everything.»

A penny for your thoughts

A quarter for the show

The truth should turn to rot

Whichever way the wind blows

A penny for your thoughts

A quarter for the show

The truth should turn to rot

Whichever way the wind blows

The truth, yes a blonde, couldn’t give a shit about her failures

Suffering in silence of a chemical imbalance

That spawned erratic behavior

The truth, yes a blonde, yes a blond, yes a blonde

Apparent in the night, but absent come the dawn

The truth, yes a blonde, yes a blond, yes a blonde

Apparent in the night, but absent come the dawn

Where is the country I came here to find?

It’s running its hands through my hair

Its borders and boundaries are clearly defined

It’s forty-five feet through the air

Only the night sky will witness my flight

Without so much as a care

Out past the margins of all that’s finite

Forty-five feet through the air

It’s forty-five feet from here to there

It’s forty-five feet through the air

Forty-five feet to bliss from despair

Only forty-five feet through the air

It’s forty-five feet from here to there

It’s forty-five feet through the air

Forty-five feet to bliss from despair

Only forty-five feet through the air

It’s forty-five feet from here to there

It’s forty-five feet through the air

Forty-five feet to bliss from despair

Only forty-five feet through the air

The world rushes past and it’s softly obscured

By the quiet and stillness of death

Take from me this body

It’s all that I have left

Floating effortlessly

The scent of gardenias in the air

A veil should mask her face

And her short blonde hair