Cold Roses

Mirrors in the room go black and blue

On a Sunday morning in Saturday shoes

We don't choose who we love

We don't chooseLots of wild memory melt on the street

In a Sunday shoes, with the Saturday feet

And she don't love who she chose

And she don't need what she doDaylight comes in exposin'

Saturday bruises and cold roses

Cold rosesNothin' but the sunlight'll help you grow from underneath your bed

You can't see the window

We don't choose what we see

We don't chooseFortunate and angry just like a child

All that money buys you, medicine but can't buy you time

We don't choose what we love

And she don't need what she gotDaylight comes in exposin'

Saturday bruises and cold roses

Cold roses, cold rosesCold roses, cold roses, cold roses