Rose The Oh Hellos

Wars are raising for her
Crusades to adore her
The light of your afterword

Are you losing her true nature
When you loosen nomenclature
When you gift another moniker?

What’s true is like a sickle
It’ll cut you to the middle
That your rose is without a thorn

But no, my mouth don’t taste of metal
From the pot here to the kettle
I think we got a lot we gotta learn

And even though by any other name
Her scent would linger sweetly, all the same
Call her briar long enough
And you’ll tangle up the true and the fable

Your dowry, it ain’t fooling
The pyrite is showing through
It won’t buy you that empty tomb

And no alchemic incantation
For a counterfeit salvation
Can appease your leviathan groom