Roses are dead
Violets are crying
I'm in the hospital the tell me I'm dying.
I cry myself to sleep
and I cut my wrist at night.
That blade I cluched might make me say
Good bye
Roses are dead
Violets are crying
I'm in the hospital the tell me I'm dying.
I cry myself to sleep
and I cut my wrist at night.
That blade I cluched might make me say
Good bye
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