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Roses

All of the people

All of those ordinary lives

Building on the outskirts

Of my mind

They ride the Iron Pilgrim

To holidays for the head

If plans were hand grenades

We'd all be deadIt's dark

It's dark where the roses grow

There's something that you should know

Before you see the light

It's dark

It's dark where the roses grow

There's places I have to go

Before I see the lightPlaying all five stages

The festival of grief

God and problems

What can stop them realise

The bottles in the drug store

Were all just piss and ink

The flags you wore

Are rags under the sink

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