A field of wild roses,
As white as the snow you eat.
Lasting as far as the eye can see,
Tis truly a beauty of the earth.
Walk along the dirt road path,
admiring what has been laid at your feet.
The sun smiling on the roses so free,
Until you see the rose that's black.
The one little cloud hung high in the sky,
Covers the sun, and knocks you off beat.
Watching the flower, you say "well, gee".
It sits there and waits, watching you.
Looking aroung for another black rose,
Trying to find someone it can meet.
You see there are none, and well that is me.
To put it simply, you are not me.
In this little story,
I have explained,
The