In the night,
I heard that last rose petal die.
Beneath the darkness in my sight,
The loud hush told no lie.
The early morning bird began its song. That Rose petal now a thorn. Come run, run come; the bells were rung.
A bleeding heart we will mourn.
In shades of dark baleful colours,
The clouds roam the afternoon sky.
Drip drop, Tear drop; they weep for us.
A basket full of sorrows, come fill the open eye.