The Scorpion stings
Its nature true.
As is the cobra
Bared fangs, no lying to you.
In all his beauty
Hides his weapons
Misconceptions and deceptions
All part of the Crying Game
As this Rose hides his true intentions
Thorny secrets tear and maim.
Hearts and hands left bleeding by his lies
While deadly beauty shines in the sun
And behind the closed doors of night?
Well, roses die with their weapons.
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