She was a rose on a thorn bush,

An apple on a tree,

I really thought, 

That she would marry me,

But that rose on the thorn bush,

That apple on a tree,

Didn't know how,

To feel about me,

Now the orchard is bare,

At her beauty I can no longer stare,

The rose has withered and died, 

My love she wouldn't take,

No matter how I tried,

Now all that's left are the thorns on the rose bush,

That rip through my heart,

Making it bleed, for a love we once had,

Love left more than a window in the sky,

It ripped my heart right out and made me watch it die,

No longer will it soar, no longer will it fly.