Every flower was once a seed,

And some were once just meager weeds,

So it was easy to say

The dining room flower was never the same

Ever since she met you.

The dining room flower once grew and grew

Until there were no longer room for two,

The chandelier and the rose,

And too, I suppose,

The girl and mean, old you.

The rose didn't grow in height,

But it's thorns, they grew in might,

And when the walls didn't move

And when you'd disapprove,

They'd prick you and say that she's right.

But, even she couldn't reach the rose,

It's stem thin and it's thorns exposed.

Even the dining room flower,

So pure, sweet, not sour,

Was ruined by your sorry blows.

The dining room flower was once a seed,

Always grew, and would never bleed,

Yet it was never the same
Since the day that you came,

And it's thorns became all that were seen.