Love is a rose which bears a thorn you can't see until it's gone
And, after all is said and done, the memory still lives on
Memories of when it blossomed and flourished in the light
Memories of how it used to make things seem so right
How beautiful, how fair and precious, glorious and pure
Now it seems a disappointment for it is no more
That perfect rose has reached its peak and now begins to wilt
The emotions no longer promising, and time just stands so still
It shrivels up and withers; petals fallen to the floor
That rose will never be the same as it ever was before
Love is a rose so frail and fragile; then when it's torn apart
All is gone but a single thorn to pierce the broken heart