What a beautiful name, thy lovely rose,

whose accursed thorns pierce my heart.

How can one so lovely hate such a world,

bestowed with grace and beauty.

Thou is a rose, beautiful, yet sinful,

and thy thorns draw the thickest of blood.

Turning the clock of time back against their will,

your grace is to be feared.

For what lies beneath your crimson shell,

is the heart of a killer so sweet.

One so graceful hath never been at war,

though thy thorns bare the mark of death.

The people, those silly fools,

pass you by without whim.

But soon enough,

your poisoned smile,

flows deep beneath their skin.

I your companion feel your totured pain,

they think you weak, thy beautiful rose!

Nay, the know naught of out sweet seduction.

One day, when the sun shall fall,

and all will lay and die,

all that will remain are you and I,

We, that simple, Deadly Rose