Oh England My Lionheart I'm in your garden fading fast in your arms The soldiers soften, the war is over The air raid shelters are blooming clover Flapping
man who had earned the right to be on speaking terms with God His grave was covered with flowers but not from the floral shop Just roses and things from folks gardens
low Now but the lows have drowned the highs away Now there's no where else to go Black rose your thorns are cutting into me For the last time Black rose
Your lips bleed like a rose Underneath the soil Is where the evil grows Your petals start to fall And the weeds attack In my torture garden The blue sky is black
someone softly Listen to me know Once a flower opens It never closes Until it dies And the it lies Amongst the roses I wanted to play her like A black
sounds of the winds when they're breaking And we can buy that diamond ring And just about any other thing With somebody else's money We can buy you that flower garden With every rose
it Fake it - fake it Make it feel so fine An' you can always smell the roses But you know, you gotta draw the line Black satin or lace, painted face
In whirlwinds of tempestuous fires a phantasm rose upon heavens ....a fearful Eidolon Lucifer was his name in Eternity the Father of Pestilence Monarch
tranquil kiss from your soft bleeding lips the anger of clashing thunder sings a song of hate sings a song of hate so strong. . . A black rose blooms
Around me: I stand on the shore The waters are black and swirling I hold a black mirror in my hands The /swastiked/ winds sweep around me Their arms the
He's one that's stealing my scene away Baby, I'm talking 'bout him Oh baby, won't you tell me 'bout your black rose? And the garden where your love
my winter sun You can't see it bright In my own feelings he rises My only winter, you keep my Desires alive My endless winter, confine me Inside your light In this garden
blessed state which sends my dreams afar Bear witness to my memories of flesh that will never rise The dice of desperation reveals a black rose lays
our lean hour) Milking your moustache? Or grinding a flower? I'm sick of dour faces Staring at me from the T.V. Tower. I want roses in my garden bower
your pardon, yeah He's going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in his garden There's a rose in a Spanish Harlem A rose in a lack and Spanish Harlem With eyes as black
garden of black roses Oh nurturing years of so long Whatever happened to my garden of black roses They say a stranger treated them wrong Tell me whatever happened to my garden
with lies We'll be memorized by shadows But our loneliness will survive Now the sugar in your soft voice Makes the sweetness in your weeping And the black rose
my garden In my garden We'll never grow old We'll never grow old In my garden Where the dew never dries In my garden In my garden These roses These black