Sitting here on my bed of black roses,
I look towards the velvet orange sky.
The smell of fresh tiger lilies fills the air,
The scene is enough to make you cry.
A hardcover book of paths and roads,
My story is nearing its faithful end.
The laughs, the fears all disappear,
The chapters of tears never again.
I am an open book in the cool wind
My pages flicker and dance in the breeze.
The climax of my story, my heart sinks,
I feel relaxed and completely at ease.
My eyes they feel a heavy weight,
The sunset beautiful as ancient gold.
I lay here in my bed of black roses,
My story will never again be told.