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Roses have been painted black

by the tears shed for the dying

they hover us so dark

preying on the corpse of life

Every day is a funeral

in a world of unfamiliar sights

painted on our grand mural

hung beneath the strands of time

Hanging roses on the wall

by the shattered frames of dreams

waiting in the darkest hall

painted black by the blood of me

Every day is a funeral

in a world of unfamiliar sights

painted on our grand mural

hung beneath the strands of time

Every day is a funeral

in a world of unfamiliar sights

painted on our grand mural

hung beneath the strands of time