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