Pink Rose Buds
Pink rose buds bright creep out to face,
The thorns and leaves, the spider's lace.
The pain, the hurt, the traps and snares,
All lay in wait for one who dares,
To dance in moonlight, though he trip.
To share his heart, though it may rip.
To spread his wings and fly away,
Although he won't get far today.
The thorns and leaves, the spider's lace.
The pain, the hurt, the traps and snares,
All lay in wait for one who dares,
To dance in moonlight, though he trip.
To share his heart, though it may rip.
To spread his wings and fly away,
Although he won't get far today.