O' The Rose

I remember lush green and growing things swaying in the breeze
And blood tinged petals of ecstasy weighing stems so forlorn
O’ the rose can taste the rain, can feel the pain
Will never blame and expects the same from you

Seeds of love to buds of pleasure; bear blooms of sorrow from soil
of lust and deceit
O’ the rose can steal your heart, can tear you apart
Makes love an art, can blindly start and end with you

Like mythic crimson crowned cherubs
Facing toward the sun
Tongues swollen with a thirst 
But the drought has just begun
Cursing the day with hands of thorns
They wither from the heat
Hanging lifeless from the vine
They at last concede defeat

Now bricks of passion and pain, set with the mortar of self pity
Keep me safe and cold in my tomb where memories of love 
die a thousand times
O’ the rose will remain dear, will never fear
Won’t shed a tear, will die and wither away