The seasons passed so gently
The rose pricks me with its torments
On the horizon, clouds of regret are looming
Smothered by a rain of tears
The night mist presented itself
My thoughts, however, were absent around my lady
Despite my attempts, my prayers
I daydreamed in the conditional
Of my bruised childhood
Which blossoms into a memory adrift in emotion
The sweetness of the dew intrigued me
And its scent brushed my thoughts
A sudden pain intoxicated me
As if a thousand rose bushes were drowning me with their stems
Think of this insatiable desire
That flees from the mercy of Eros
It's guilty love causing suffering
With a vehemence as mad as it is fierce
My sobs together form petals
I have no more, the rose was lethal
She left faster than a shoplifting
Leaving me alone in the shadow of her offset
The seasons passed so gently
Like the wind
The rose pricks me with its torments
For 18 years
The unexpected was waiting for me around the corner
God left me on the side
I didn't get back on my feet
I couldn't breathe, my past represents the rose bush
A little calm in this gloomy end
I water her absence with rose water
In the hereafter, I will no longer be a cause
The more I think about it, the more I plant myself
Feet in the water at midnight
Time was slowing down
I get my style washed
Colors waltz and harmonize in an eternal symphony
I create my best insomnia to no longer be a futile object
Let my body be expiated
But why do I still breathe
My childhood in disagreement
With its neglected fate
What's the point of this refusal of devotion
Because she was brushing the effluvium of conventions
She lit the walls of her prison
But sank in the reflux of her emotions
She gave me the gift of solitude
I don't want it, it's just foam
In search of my dear genesis
I fly like the notes of a prelude
My sobs together form petals
I have no more, the rose was lethal
She left faster than a shoplifting
Leaving me alone in the shadow of her offset
The seasons passed so gently
Like the wind
The rose pricks me with its torments
For 18 years
The seasons passed so gently
Like the wind
The rose pricks me with its torments
For 18 years

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