Treadles - The Girl With Fake Flowers Lyrics

Maybe she's still floating or
Maybe she's run a-ground
Hard to tell from here
Either way there's sand beneath her fingernails
But never fake flowers in her hair
She keeps those on a hidden shelf
Painted aqua, teal, and lavender
She pretends that, no, nothing bothers her
Lies in bed and breathes so heavily
Tries not to tell too much to the ceiling
That spoiled milk feeling
The congealing disease
The real flowers died years ago
Dried, pressed, into an old book
To keep them beautiful
But, Lord, look at how they've crumbled
Who could tell her what to do about it now
Digging deeper with her sandy fingernails
She can't climb so
Sometimes she grows bored with the world
God only knows she's a good girl