Hothouse flower Waterlogged All worn down By a salty fog Silk born Thin skin Weak from the breeze You don't have To earn anything To survive You don't have to try Gifts arrive If you desire Still you dream Still you scream Like a bird at dawn It feels unfair To be so square While others have something To fear and feel Sallowed, useless Nothing is at stake So you cultivate your taste Imagine a struggle Copy your scene Mannequin In faux greenery To survive You don't have to try Gifts arrive If you desire Still you dream Still you scream Like a bird at dawn It feels so dumb To be so numb While others have something To fear and feel Oh to be mud born Rise from the ashes Telling the troubles you've seen Hothouse flower Cries from her window Faking her own suffering