There's A Black Rose Growing In Your

Love Is A Garment Riven In The Light That Rises From Parnassus, Showing The Night Is Over.

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

There's A Black Rose Growing In Your Garden.

Lovers May Come And Go, There Was The Memory Of Blood, The Low Call.

I Could Not Accept From Wisdom What Love Taught, Woman Is Perfect.