Gardenias

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, yeah
 With her heart in her hands
 Her hands stopped holding on, yeah
 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 raging claiming innocence lost
 That spawned chaotic behavior
 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, yeah
 "I'm afraid I'm a coward, I'm sorry for everything"
 Yeah!
 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, chemical imbalance
 That spawned erratic behavior
 The truth, yes, a blonde
 Yes, a blonde, yes, a blonde
 Apparent in the night, but absent come the dawn
 The truth, yes a blonde
 Yes, a blonde, 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
 It's forty-five feet through the air
 It's forty-five feet from here to there
 It's forty-five feet through the air
 It's 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
 It's forty-five feet to bliss from despair
 Just forty-five feet through the air
 Forty-five feet from here to there
 Forty-five feet through the air
 It's forty-five feet to bliss from despair
 Just 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