Roses have been painted black
by the tears shed for the dying
they hover us so dark
preying on the corpse of life
Every day is a funeral
in a world of unfamiliar sights
painted on our grand mural
hung beneath the strands of time
Hanging roses on the wall
by the shattered frames of dreams
waiting in the darkest hall
painted black by the blood of me
Every day is a funeral
in a world of unfamiliar sights
painted on our grand mural
hung beneath the strands of time
Every day is a funeral
in a world of unfamiliar sights
painted on our grand mural
hung beneath the strands of time
