Roses: ‘you’re driftwood floating on the water’ – travis

oh, the roses, the roses,
their thorns, they oppose us,
protect them, protect them,
re-resurrect them,
the roses, the roses,
sweet scents on our noses,
the redder their blood
whose stains could compose us,
the roses, the roses
the taller they grow is
the more they expose us,
green stems on green stems,
like a crown that condemns
all the roses, the roses,
no love that proposes
could hang from a cross,
like the one we hope knows us.


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