my hand, my heart
help hold our rose together
when the roses begins to die
i squeeze the thorns and paint it with my blood
so at least it looks alive.
the blood dries ever so quickly
my scabs never can heal
and old scars are always being reopened
tring to save whats gone.
so much pain, so much blood
has gone into saving
this love this rose
i don't even relize
that she already let go
so while digging deeper
into my vain
for this rose i hold so dearly
i do it all in vain.
when i have no more blood to give
the rose dies and I'm left ever so empty
and to wonder is love worth the price of roses and blood
writen by: jeff sanfilippo
Augest 29 2008
