[Chorus] Style, salted not sugared, read it low and mean Style in the flowers, in the calendar sheen Style, raise a glass, and let the whole room sway Pretty little wreckage dressed up for the day [Verse] Painted blooms collide with numbers in a grid Upside-down words keep asking what we did A chalk-white broken shape leans into the light Purple wall behind it, bruised and almost bright [Verse] Red petals burn beside a yellow sun Green leaves crawl where the old dates run The page says happy, but the edges disagree A dirty little beauty staring back at me [Chorus] Style, salted not sugared, read it low and mean Style in the flowers, in the calendar sheen Style, have another drink, let the whole room sway Pretty little wreckage dressed up for the day [Outro] Style... style... (read it low) Flowers on the numbers (let it go)
