Roses are red

Violets are blue

Obey my rules and it will all be fine my son

You like basketball, now take off that dancing shoe

 

Roses are red

Violets are pathetic

He looks fine, doesn't look as gay

He's just like me when I was younger, athletic

 

Roses are crying

Violets are blue

Talk to me son, do you not like Basketball?

You like jumpshots, not pirouettes, I only want what is best for you

 

Roses are decaying

Violets are silenced

To think my son did not want to follow my footsteps

Dust to the wind, pressured to the rope caused by my violence

 

Roses are red

Violets are blue 

Perhaps if he had carved his own path, not mine

I might not have to carve a spot in the ground for him next to the grass morning dew