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Wounded The Your Roses Will Burn

with sunrise consumers, Destroyers of beautiful dreams. A rose selling class,.. banishes, Breed fear amongst the frail. Burning,.. the flames will burn your

Your girl has married your best friend, love's end, poison pen Your flesh will always creep, tossing turning sleep The wounds that burn so deep Your

spill or seed or spread on your breath: Or your silence will seep into the something you wished to avoid It will be seen some fine day, all right, yes, all right: "I will

burning rose, love And if you still feel sad I'll seize the passing years I'll squeeze out all the tears The newsreel of our life I'll play it in reverse Your pain will

the life that never was And here we stand In old England's land The rose is choked by it's thorn She will cast salt For your wound Old England wears

my soul Thy my kingdom has risen with pride Cold scars and blackened rivers The red sea echoes your name You have sealed your wounds The flowers

you feeling? Oh, I ask the rose with its petals of blood But the rose of blood can't answer me till the end Scream without raising your voice hold your

the life that never was And here we stand In old England's land The rose is choked by it's thorn She will cast salt For your wound Old England wears

you feeling? Oh, I ask the rose with its petals of blood But the rose of blood can't answer me till the end Scream without raising your voice hold your