My lifeline is a hanging rose
I make it to forever,
Forever lies the smell of dead roses,
And never ending funerals.
Friday comes calling,
And you don't want it.
You don't want to see the trailing tears
And the open fears,
You know no one here hides.
You hold the sobbing man's hand,
As you try to keep calm.
It's best others think you are fine
To help them stay alive.
My lifeline is a hanging rose
It hangs from my mirror and sits by my lies
I took it from your bouquet.
But you slipped away
Leaving me clinging to roses
And faded words, today.
My lifeline is a hanging rose
It has not died.
It is upside down
And is hanging from my mirror
It has yet to die,
But it has shriveled up.
My lifeline is a hanging rose.
