• The roses are black
    The violets are dead
    Everything is bitter
    About the road ahead
    You see fear
    In everything around
    I see death running abound
    Blood pouring down every wall
    Screams echoing through
    The lonely halls
    What did we do?
    What can we say?
    About all the things
    That have gone astray
    Because roses are black
    And the violets are dead
    Will we live through the hell
    That lies ahead?