Roses are suppose to be red,
While a violets a shade of blue,
But whenever i feel your presence nearby
This tends to be untrue,
My colours seem to lack the zest
Of a love which is meant to be
My flowers have begun to pale
No red or blue i see.
The love i once had for you
Was good if you recall,
But the bloom is there no more
The petals begun to fall.
And so i prick the lovely thorns
So painful in the end
The flowers have all died on me
And so have we my friend.
