from The Briar and the Rose by Tom Waits
“I picked the rose one early morn
I pricked my finger on a thorn
They’d grown so high
Its winding wove the briar around the rose
I tried to tear them both apart
I felt a bullet in my heart
And all dressed up in springs new clothes
The briar and the rose
And when I’m buried and in my grave
Tell me so I will know
Your tears will fall
To make love grow
The briar and the rose
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