Rose of Los Angeles
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The Rose of Los Angeles
Now wrapped within her wires
The Rose of Los Angeles
Now breathing through her mask
The reasons long aborted
Inside her clouded glass
Her fingers soft, but contorted
Now reaching for the past
Now gone
Now gone
Now gone
Now gone
My children they are a treason
Take them from my fold
They hover now like 3 surgeons
To remove my slipping hold
Now gone
Now gone
Now gone
Now gone
So may you marry early
And may your lover die
Then may you find some other
And may she murder you