But baby how can you see everybody like yourself.
They can’t have those petals surrounding them,
And the throne protecting them.
They aren’t supposed to be the privileged,
As they don’t have the tenderness which you get.
From the tree and the fairies.
In the cactus, you bring a bloom,
You being a divine soul isn’t doomed.
Their honey-dipped relish can’t change their identity,
Why are you assuming that they are comparable to you,
who possesses the soul of a deity.
You have the potential to give everything in love,
And they have the audacity to you vacant.