Walking on a summer day down in Warland Square
When we came upon a begging flower with dreadlocks in her hair
younger girl, cyanotic too soon
She shoots us back a look, keep that pity to yourself
Then she turns away so violently and fixes up again
Life-stealing chill digging into her

Why have you turned out this way?
Have all those cheap shots got [bad word] so far away?

Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul
Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold
Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose
Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul
Rights to your soul, rights to your soul

Reluctantly I throw some cash and pity in her can
Knowing full well that the money is earmarked for a bad plan
Admit kindness to a fault, I guess
She half smiles, half cries, catch that pity in my eyes
Then she looks away within a hurry for her begging cry
Christ, she looks on her last leg

Why have you turned out this way?
Have all those hot shots got [bad word] so far away?

Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul
Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold
Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose
Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul
Rights to your soul, rights to your soul

How do you concede young life to a dragon?
How about kicking your demons loose for a ride on the wagon?

Why have you turned out this way?
Have all those hot shots got [bad word] so far away?

Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul
Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold
Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose
Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul
Rights to your soul, rights to your soul

Owns, owns the rights to your soul
Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold
I remember such a little rose
Before the heroin stole the rights to your soul
Rights to your soul, rights to your soul