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Garden
As I crawl through the black roses,
razor in hand
thorns tear my flesh,
bleeding my soul
as they have done for so many years
since I've wandered this garden
wishing to find the answer
or perhaps salvation
As I crawl through the black roses,
razor in hand
thorns tear my flesh,
bleeding my soul
as they have done for so many years
since I've wandered this garden
wishing to find the answer
or perhaps salvation
