/lit/ - Literature

This is the year ’twill not grow m’ roses – I know that for sure

M’ head’s already aching so I won’t try it on my own – and that is such a shame
Cause I like my roses, but there’s no way I can have my own
And I’m not one of the people that can get the hang of the climate
And I’ve lived this life so long and I’ve seen it in its prime

I’ll try it if you’ll go along with me

And I’m not the sort of man that’ll change the life I love If the only thing you’ll give me’s a little kiss and a smile
But the year’s too short, and if it takes a week or month or year, then you end up feeling like a fool
With you, well, what’d I want to do with a love that’s such a big mistake
What’s it worth for me to get my fingers pricked?

This is the year ’twill not grow my roses – I know that for sure

The world doesn’t need no man like me, and it is easy to be happy if you’re by yourself
But m’ friends that I love are all I’ve got
And if I have to choose
Then I take my heart and run from this earth
Cause when I’m dead I can’t be here

Then this is the year -
The year I'll not grow my roses – I know that for sure

And when it goes to the top It’ll be time for me to take myself away
I’m not a kid who’s ever gonna stay and play
And if I’ve got to take myself away, there’s no use to try this kind of a love
My roses tint the skies above

And this is the year ’twill not grow me any roses – and I know that for sure