Roseret
Cris Juanico
Bloody Rose
Bloody rose of white roses,
who would have thought,
as friendly as we used to be,
that now we would have to quarrel!
If we quarreled because we quarreled,
bloody rose of my heart,
we quarreled over nothing;
You do yours, I'll do mine.
If the sea turned ink,
the mountains into fine paper,
I would write you a letter
for how much you make me suffer.
Bloody rose of white roses,
who would have thought,
as friendly as we used to be,
that now we would have to quarrel!
If we quarreled because we quarreled,
bloody rose of my heart,
we quarreled over nothing;
You do yours, I'll do mine.
If the sea turned ink,
the mountains into fine paper,
I would write you a letter
for how much, for how much,
for how much, you make me suffer.
