I bought a bouquet of rubies for Rose,
I thought, ‘how they were young, so bloody red!’
I was in love with love, blinded from woes,
A Fool to not see you’d rather me dead.
But the day I bought the roses for you
I felt love leak out the faults in our skin,
Our lips fixed together like fervent glue
And we carried out our favourite sin.
I offered the roses to your Highness,
A coronation of youthful love, but
‘On your knees Fool, dead roses don’t impress’ –
I’d kiss your mouth Queen, but never your foot.
Dethroned as your King, you’d found a new Prince,
Haven’t bought flowers for anyone since.