Pink Roses

You like to carry my heart in a bag that's broken.

You're asking when do I stop?

When the bottle's empty.

Blacker than my father's soul, 

drunk enough to raise us all.



Pink... pink

roses... roses...



Nomad:

Drowning rat.

Black.

Black.

So black you can't even grasp the fact.

Blacker than a beggar's soul, 

rich enough to raise us all.



Maybe when you need that Cadillac they'll sense



Pink... pink...

roses... roses...



Cold in the ground.

What gets me this down?

The smell of magnesium, 

the smile of a clown.



I want to drink you, 

scare you (boo!), 

fuck you and film you



Pink... pink...

roses... roses...



And if it ain't sold

Platinum or gold

This'll be the biggest liar that had lived (laugh)