Roses are red like the blood on the blade,
That glides through the air on a chilly night day.

Violets are blue like the lips of the dead,
That fall silent with words left unsaid.

Black is the color of the veil,
That hid the tears that fell.

Brown is the color of the guns,
That shot off one by one.  

White is the color of the stars,
That are folded neatly in her trembling arms. 
 

Pain now entangles her heart,
That was crushed and is falling apart.

For the son that has left this earth to lay his bed,
With the true Father whose blood was shed.

For the one they loved,
Now look down on them from above.