Lisa Loeb
"Furious Rose"


"It's not really poetry, but it's pretty," he said. 
As he raises his voice, she lowers her head. 
"It makes my heart heavy, you're lonely, I think. 
Oh, Rose, you're sad, I suppose." 
"Look in her bed and she's bound to be sleeping. 
She's lying there dead. - No, she's breathing." 
Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes, 
your languorous hum, that tone of surprise 
I've heard energy in adversity. 
Your smile: the soul of witchery. 
You're not running away, 
You're not running - are you? 
Lyrically longing, she's tearing the words from the page. 
She's fearfully seething. 
"Bring me your blessings, a prayer, or a new pen. 
- You don't know what I need." 
"Look in my bed and I'm bound to be sleeping, 
I'm lying there dead, but I'm breathing. 
And I'm barely balancing as it is, 
And I don't want to drown in my dreams 
Bring me wild plums and agrimony 
I bet you don't even know what that means." 
Furious Rose with your opiate eyes, 
Your languorous hum, that tone of surprise. 
I've heard energy in adversity. 
Your smile: the soul of witchery. 
You're not running away, 
you're not running - are you? 
Gingerly peering, over his shoulder, removed herself from the room.