Once in the Museum
We seen a little rose
In a jar of alcohol —
You turns up your nose:
“That’s the way people think
Love ought to be —
Last forever! Pickled roses!
None o’ that for me!”
That night was fireworks
Out to Riverview
Gold and red and purple
Bustin’ over you.
“Beautiful!” you says then,
“That’s how love should be!
Burn wild and die quick —
That’s the love for me!”
Now you’re gone for good . . . say,
Wasn’t they no other way? . . .
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