| Morsal |
|---|
| They will see |
| Your face in bloom |
| And the night |
| Will be no more |
| They know nothing |
| About your doom |
| They see you still |
| The way you’ve been |
| Before |
| So colourful |
| But the poison deep inside |
| Has spread |
| My rose |
| You wither with pride |
| You wither in grace |
| You turn your face |
| Towards the light |
| Your leaves start to fall |
| Again you’ll arise |
| After all |
| In broken china |
| You’re laid out |
| Like a floater |
| At the shore |
| In dead water |
| You will sprout |
| Even after they cut off |
| Your thorns |
| Defenseless |
| But morale deep inside |
| Has spread |
| My rose |
| You wither with pride |
| You wither in grace |
| You turn your face |
| Towards the light |
| Your leaves start to fall |
| Again you’ll arise |
| After all |
| My rose |
| You wither in grace |
| You wither with pride |
| Your leaves start to fall |
| But you keep your |
| Head up high… |
| My rose |
| You wither with pride |
| You wither in grace |
| You turn your face |
| Towards the light |
| Your leaves start to fall |
| Again you’ll arise |
| After all |
| My rose |
| You wither in grace |
| You wither with pride |
| Your leaves start to fall |
| But you keep your |
| Head up high… |
