i may as well be a dead roseno one dares to water or revive just to throw out with this weeks disasters and garbage my thorns are fighting those who try to stop me but they aren't strong enough to keep me alive. they may protect me but they can never save me i watch each petal die off and fall away as each word is saidday after day sunlight doesn't work anymore i won't grow from it no now it will just dry me out screw these lovers of flowers from cutting me from my source of life pretending they love me when all they do is kill me who knew that once they fell in love with me that the cut they'd make would be the beginning of my death? the little girl didn't. but now she does. my source of life might be dirt but it will still keep me alive but now it's too late i'm black both outside and on the inside