The life of bloody roses

I can taste the blood in my mouth, it flows in and out of my breakable veins. I drink from the cup of evil. It keeps getting me, taring me, telling me that I have done bad. but answer my prayers tonight, because i need to hold on tight.

Hold me, let me go, and be free, let me be a broken child with no heart to bleed. I have been in a third degree murder, and it keeps taring me apart from what makes me me...

If you only knew, just what to do, to make me feel this blessing of hell, the secrets, the bells, sing of charity in the river of my bloody rose.

My bloody rose is a sacred thought, none to be left, but a spirit,s o immaculate, so immortal.

My spirits wont die, but I fall to cry, and i wonder why. The Way you treated me, I have put up with enough, for this bloody rose.

This bloody rose represents the blackness of my soul, and unfortunate hope.

I have no hope for this bloody rose.

I have no where to go, to show, how i have felt and how you made me feel, its a blessing its unreal.

i need this bloody rose