She stands there with her wilted rose,

Her wilted rose in hand,

Cries out to the world,

To the world to understand.

Her silver tears rain down,

Rain down from cloudy eyes,

Staining her silken robe,

Her silken robe of dreams.

The memories of all those nights,

Of all those nights enveloped in hope.

The visions of her happy life

Her happy life murdered by fear.

His face stands out in the dark

In the dark that shrouds her mind,

Whispering those lonesome words,

Those lonesome words of love.

The wilted rose falls to the ground

Falls to the ground of blood,

Blooming with the ever glow

The ever glow of death

His face stares out from the dark

From the dark that blankets hell

His eyes convey the messages

The messages of love,

But in his mouth there flies the words

The words of cold betrayal

And in his hands there lies the knife

The bloodied knife of sacrifice.