• On the table
    The roses stand
    I lean to take one
    Into my hand
    But the roses
    So full of scorn
    Take my palm
    Upon a thorn
    The drops of blood
    Ruddy and red
    Falling like ruby tears
    From the eyes of the dead
    I curse the roses
    With their beauty so charming
    And their hidden
    Wicked ways of harming
    My fingers are torn
    And the roses are bleeding
    I've loved them
    Since they were seedlings
    But they have wronged me
    Tasting my blood
    They have a vase of water
    Crystal and good
    But my roses
    Oh! My roses
    Have followed in
    The footsteps of Moses
    My roses are killers
    And have turned their eyes
    Upon me today
    Because I've told them
    So many lies

    On the stairs
    My daughters stand
    Young men taking them
    By the hand
    But my daughters
    So full of life
    Take to my soul
    With a knife
    The sleepless nights
    Restless and long
    Seeming to sing
    A graveyaard song
    I curse my daughters
    As the years have skipped by
    And they have grown
    So that I may longer lie
    My heart is torn
    And my daughters have fled
    For the night
    With their painted lips so red
    But they have left me
    Tasting new waters
    They have a good home
    Here with their father
    But my daughters
    Oh! My daughters
    Have left me for
    Life's deeper waters
    My daughters are killers
    And have turned their eyes
    From me today
    Because they've found
    Whole new lives