The Roses

歌詞

The oaks and the vines, and the branches entwine Around my heart And a melancholy winding led to my depart And it was clear, that you were not here For the roses And you stood watch, over a man-made lake You ain’t no saint, of the roses And you wore, paper thin sleeves In this mire, of thorns And with ill fate, we lay beneath Oh that white cross, bearing this loss And with ill fate, we lay beneath, oh that white cross Bearing this loss And I shall, continue to make, bouquets of roses from this fate And so I shall continue to make, bouquets of roses From this fate