sometimes hearsay isn't enough
I'm digging, digging,
oh, just raking up the flower bed

you have a sweet face
open yet so guarded
what secrets do you hide behind cherry lips?
you will share them with me over cake and cold tea
you will not take them to your grave, it's impolite

pray tell, what brings you here
and who gave you secrets
speak, those lips aren't just for the painting
why so silent, lady? silence is impolite
I said, you will share your secrets with me
I've already prepared cake and tea and a soft bed for you
(is it normal to be so angry)

the tea is cold, I apologize
you see, we have no warmth in these parts
you're new here, so you have to learn quickly
secrets are our currency

you have lips like a flower, quite dainty
(flowers also die easily)
don't make me pluck the petals, one by one
woman, deflowered
you will share your secrets, one by one

yes of course, I will send the painting to your husband back home

I walk out onto the veranda
in the living room, the butler picks up cherry-red petals and stores them in a jar
I see the flower bed in the distance (at least what's left of it)
I did my best digging it up, I believe it makes a soft bed
I told you, she will not take her secrets to her grave

fret not, woman, oblivion is not an issue
I will see you in flower beds, and in portraits of guarded smiles
your family will remember you in the painting I sold to a museum instead

woman, portrait
you're no longer a mystery
thanks for sharing your secrets over cake and cold tea