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 grace of a tourist
With the charm of demolition
She's a poem without meter or rhyme
A random design of a flower
Like a rose no one really knows

She's a masterpiece deserving restoration
or condemnation time will tell us
If she's a lifer or a decom-posuer
She's the rose no one really knows