United States
33° 56' 5.7156" N, 81° 9' 9.7128" W

There's a garden
Grown by the Devil's reapers
And they plant souls
Of all earth's little creatures
They'll give you the peace
You wouldn't find in any preacher
In exchange for the life that you've come to know

Marked by old stones
That silently whisper
They talkin' bout the ones
Who made themselves quitters
And it's their living
Who're forced to be listeners
It's by their tears that the garden grows

So make a spot for me
Coz I'm headed for a kill
Take myself out of the picture
No I don't have a will
My life is always moving
So how can peace be still?
Like the seed I will be sown

Take me to the garden of souls
And bury me six feet deep
Want you to plant my own
Lay me in the garden of souls
I'm gonna be at the root of peace
But underneath the sprout of sorrow

But who's gonna cry for me?
Who' gonna cry for me?
Who's gonna cry over me?
Who's gonna cry over me?

The black rose has grown
No one there to cry
The black rose did grow
But now it withered up and died
...withered up and died
...withered up and died
...I was still alive
You let me wither up and die.


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