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