In the sand box he plays
The perfect place to smell his body decay
The little boy seems unafraid
Blood drops on white roses.
Rubbing up against him he smiles
Just one soul in sight for miles
Should I spare the life of this child?
Blood drops on white roses.
A gentle pat apon my head
I'll give this child his life ahead
No weeping tears, no pawprints left of red
Blood drops on white roses.
Copyright ©2002 Dark Angel