I Guess That’s Why They Make Safety Pins

How could a manufactured rose harness a thorn of metal
You did not let one drop of blood fall onto the ground
Or transfer onto our expensive and illustrious
Clothing that we donned for the evening
You did not know the precious commodity
You wear that scar as a keepsake to when we weren’t stereotyped
That one time you did not know the precious commodity

You make me wish that I didn’t think that dancing was such a stupid ritual
You make me wish I was young again
So the small things are worth more
A piece of you was left in that photo booth
Black and white can’t describe the details
People ask you “where’d you get that”