[Intro] (spoken) Yo. My name is Carl. I'm a ... cactus. This goes out to everyone who thinks a little water counts as love. It doesn't. [Verse 1] They say, "Carl, you barely need a thing. A sunny window. Water in the spring." Sure, I handle drought. I handle being dry. That doesn't mean I'm fine when you walk by. Luna is an orchid. Private spa, special spray. She gets misted like a duchess twice a day. She's got an app that tells them, "Luna needs you now." I've been here since twenty eighteen. Nothing. Not a sound. (spoken) No notifications. No "How are you?" Just: "Don't touch that one." I asked for a bigger pot. Matt put me on a plate. Apparently I have a patio now. [Hook] My name is Carl. I'm green. I'm here. Same pot, same spot, year after year. You see the thorns, then walk on by. The part that hurts is on the inside. [Verse 2] The receipt says "Cactus mix. Plant number three." Eight years living here. That's all you have for me? Eight years in one pot. Roots beneath my feet built a subway network. Every stop is me. (spoken) Plants one and two are missing. I demanded transparency. Matt took the wrapper off. That's not what I meant. A guy bumped into me once and yelled: "PSYCHOTIC GREEN WEAPON!" Bro. You put your hand directly into me. What were you expecting? Fur? Yes, I have spikes. It's self-defence. Thorns aren't a personality. Thorns are baggage. [Hook] My name is Carl. I'm green. I'm here. Same pot, same spot, year after year. You see the thorns, then walk on by. The part that hurts is on the inside. [Verse 3] Matt says he's broke. I see what Luna gets. Six cushions on the couch. I know what caused those debts. One is called Barry. Gets a cuddle all night long. They move me off the windowsill with barbecue tongs. (spoken) BARRY IS POLYESTER. He has never made oxygen. Not one molecule. He is literally full of himself. But I'm the one who's hard to get close to. The banana plant has three thousand followers. "Growing and glowing." He's started a podcast. About growth. He's a cutting from some guy in the hallway. I get a dish towel over my head so nobody gets hurt when they move me. "Grab the spiky thing." I am not a pineapple under arrest. And the towel isn't soundproof. [Bridge] (spoken) I tried therapy. Online. "Plants with intimacy issues." Three cacti. Four roses. Aloe vera asked for a safe space. The carnivorous plant said, "I've got room." We had to take a break. The therapist said: "Carl, tell us how you feel." I don't have a microphone. I hadn't even signed up. Matt left the screen on next to me. But for the first time in eight years, somebody said: "I think you're on mute." Yes. Thank you. Finally. Someone gets it. [Verse 4] One night Matt put his phone down. I tried to catch his eye. "You don't have to hold me. Just don't walk straight by. My spikes are sharp, I know. The pot will be all right. Could you give it one small pat before you say goodnight?" (spoken) He got up. Came over. I felt hope sprouting. Then he picked up the watering can. Forty millilitres. "There. Done." DONE?! THIS IS NOT IKEA, MATT! YOU HAVE NOT ASSEMBLED A BILLY BOOKCASE! You can't pour water on me and call the relationship repaired! The label says "low maintenance." Not "emotionally self-sufficient"! I asked for affection. You gave me tap water. Do I call the water company Daddy now? I leaned away from the light for eleven days in protest. He looked at me and said: "Has it always been that wonky?" ... yes, Matt. Probably just the light. [Hook] My name is Carl. I'm green. I'm here. Same pot, same spot, year after year. You see the thorns, then walk on by. The part that hurts is on the inside. [Outro] (spoken) When sunlight hits the window, it warms me to the roots. I know it isn't a hug. But I stay in it. So next time you see a cactus, you don't have to squeeze. My pot has rounded edges. Just say: "Hey, Carl. How are you doing?" And wait a bit before you leave. Plant three. And Barry does not have power of attorney.
