The Sunflowers

We’re the rebels in your backyard
your sweet-smelling clean closet.

Off they come from that clothesline
we’re takin’ ’em from your hills hoists.

See us as we fuck with your day while breaking
a beat or two as we dance and move.

There’s nowhere for you to hide your
sun-kissed clothes as we pack ’em up.

We’re the morning-fresh sunflowers
switchblades of the badass suburbs.

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