The Iron Rose

Your tower's full of roses, full of beautiful wee Doves. The sorceress is shouting, "Look at Helen in your Dreams." Concrete landscape is your daily truth. Grey waters ruin your youth. Chrome is the armour of the fallen. Black is the mourn of your soul. This is the iron rose, a mourning of your Soul. This is the iron rose, the burning fields of Strife. This is the iron rose. This is the iron rose. This is the iron, this is the iron, This is the iron rose. Wait for the turning of the tides. Wake through the darkest of nights. The tree of life it is calling, But the child of the soul it is gone. The sorceress is shouting. This is the iron Rose, a mourning of your soul. This is the iron rose, the burning fields of Strife. This is the iron rose. This is the iron rose. This is the iron, this is the iron, This is the iron rose. Gasping breath breaks the silence. Bright sunlight pierces your eyes. Fear is the aim of emptiness. Nothing is the answer you are told. This is the iron rose, a Mourning of your soul. This is the iron rose, the burning fields of Strife. This is the iron rose. This is the iron rose. This is the iron, this is the iron, This is the iron rose. They were mingling. Whilst the silent night bore us Into darkness, did you feel through the silence and The softness all the tension of the steel?