I had a rose,
my rose was...

From my cuts,
flow blood...

I wear my heart on my sleeve,
you can see it bleeding and broken...

Jump . . .
Standing on the roof...

It started with a virgin red rose,
in the beginning of spring...

She was playing a song on the piano,
looking at everything and yet seeing nothing that...

My twisted lullaby,
music notes from my music box, playing in my mind...