To your grave I spoke,
Holding a red,
Red rose.
Gust of freezing cold air,
Whispers to me,
That you are gone.
Always,
Always asking the question,
Why life is overrated.
But I never,
Never expected that I'd,
Underestimated my love for you.
To your grave I spoke,
Holding a red,
Red rose.
Gust of freezing cold air,
Whispers to me,
That you are gone.
Always,
Always just out of reach from my,
Over frustrated,
Shameful hands.
And I never,
Never expected that I would ever,
No never take for granted your precious time.
To your grave I spoke,
Holding a red,
Red rose.
Gust of freezing cold air,
Whispers to me,
You're gone.
Spent a lifetime of holding on,
Just to let go.
I guess I'll spend another lifetime,
Searching for a new hope.
To your grave I spoke,
Holding a red,
Red rose.
Gust of freezing cold air,
Whispers to me,
You're gone.
Spent a lifetime of holding on,
Just to let go.
I guess I'll spend another lifetime,
Searching for a new hope.
A new hope.
A new hope.
A new hope.
A new hope.