Little Rocket

He's got a little locket picture of the maids' commission. 
With bees blowing through the bushes, he makes the first 
incision, and these dolls race through the garden.
A chef on boneless roses opens the bandages, and this empty
 house discloses what the guest's dreams are hiding, as he 
rests above the arbor with little flowers crying for all 
their heads he's harbored. And the then midnight market 
stalls fill with up chloroform, the face within his locket 
mouths "take off your uniform." They kiss him before 
parting, then melt into his pockets. He's trampling through
 the garden and he's got a little locket.