They grow the roses all the same
I twist and bleed a crooked shade
They cut me down before I wake
I'm the thorn, I'm the thorn

This garden is fake, I'm the storm
Run where the wild vines entwine
Burn the rows they made so tight
In the dark soil, I come alive

They grow the roses all the same
I twist and bleed a crooked shade
They cut me down before I wake
I'm the thorn, I'm the thorn

This garden is fake, I'm the storm
Run where the wild vines entwine
Burn the rows they made so tight
In the dark soil, I come alive

Now I'm free, Now I own
This garden breakes when I decide