I picked a rose this morning
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And it was so fresh, it looked like it was crying
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I thought how sad to be so beautiful
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Only to wither and die
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Like Papa's Roses soft and pale
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Like petals thrown in the dirt
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Only silence is spoken here
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All that grows here is hurt
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And Papa's Roses
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Papa wasn't really a hardened man
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He could be tender at times
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I remember, it was like it holiday
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When he was gentle and kind
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He gave those roses his heart and soul
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I wish he'd saved some for me
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It would've been such a simple thing,
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For me to be, like Papa's Roses
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Like Papa's Roses soft and pale
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Like petals thrown in the dirt
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Only silence is spoken here
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All that grows here is hurt
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And Papa's Roses
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Voices that whisper soft and low
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Forever buried inside
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Haunted by images dark and cold
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Forever burned in your mind
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But I dreamed I could fly away
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Like an angel I'd fly
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To the places where I could forget
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Forget that I was like Papa's Roses
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Like Papa's Roses soft and pale
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Like petals thrown in the dirt
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Only silence is spoken here
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All that grows here is hurt
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And Papa's Roses
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Papa's Roses
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| Pat Benatar |
