I bleed red as the roses from which I collect thorns
in the moonlight, my heart mourns
for the beauty is far too much for my eye
these days romance too short in supply
the perfume lingers in my memory still
a pain even love could never fulfill
drifting on the night air's chill
I breathe the magic in deep
I'm dreaming fast asleep
in the garden of my memory
wandering endlessley
longing for the key
the love that will finally set me free.

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