• Love is nothing but a desert Rose,
    it rises,it blooms,and yet it grows.
    But as it grows it bears a thorn,
    that bites ones hearth like a Devils horn.

    And I could say,for what is love,
    they say it comes from God above.
    But noone talks of what it can bring,
    but noone mentions its deadly sting.

    And I can say its lovely too,
    when you see it grow, and watch it bloom.
    And I can say...its not bad at all,
    but what when the love begins to fall.

    And as it falls it brings you down,
    and as it falls you turn around.
    You see yourself cowered in the dark,
    your soul vanishing like a tiny spark.

    And now its fallen, now yours is done,
    you look up high but you see no sun.
    now that love has brought you down,
    your hearth has stoped with a frown.

    And as the rose dies,you still are dead,
    for by now, you have came to an end.
    Nothing but dead,you will remain,
    until another Rose is born again.


    And even dough it ends up with a sting,
    now...is Love not a lovely thing!

    And the rose can be lovely indeed,
    if brings you love,and the pain you need.
    And only the pain...you treasure the most,
    can wake up the soul you have lost.