Pinkish Antics

I think I was born a strawberry
Too curvy to be a boy
I always had a sweet tooth
To play house instead of pirates
Pink and plastic

Jammed inside a jar, the lid was popped
Too dirty to be a girl
There are stubbly seeds on my chin
I pick them and plant them but
No gardens grow in the sink
No gardens through plastic pink

My elbows dipped
My cheeks flushed red
My sweet spit
My sweet

I think I was born a palm tree too
Too swaying to stay on cold shoulders
Every hurricane rains in dirt and cinders
My hair, wayfaring and
Pink organic

Slammed outside the door, the banyan fell
No more totems in the night, that banyan fell
Despite her every root, that banyan fell
I'm a stranger to that sight
No gardens grow in the sink
No gardens, organic pink

In second or third grade I dyed my hair pink
It was at one of those sleepovers where you didn't sleep and left at 10:30
I remember washing it out in the sink when I got home
Because my parents didn't want me to stain the bedsheets

Strawberry water went down the drain
And my curls hung damp and straight
It was temporary dye but I wish I could've kept it longer than the moment
I wish I could've kept a lock of it, on it

My elbows dipped
My cheeks flushed red
My sweet spit
My sweet

Antics to sing about these what-ifs
Lips to kiss what if I could write that In my script, someone's girl to sweeten up
Somebody's bitter boyish antics
To sing about these what-ifs
Lips to kiss what if I could write that
In my script, someone's girl to sweeten up
Somebody's bitter boyish antics

I kid, I kid
I kid, I kid
Organic plastic
These pinkish antics
Yeah, that's good