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.