Dead - Stephen Fretwell

Sunblushed roses are next to the bed

I’ve drunk too much coffee

And it’s gone to my head

Walk me down the side street

And hold my hand

It looks like I’m leading

But we both know I can’t

For a week and a night

I’ll be out of my mind

But please don’t get me wrong

Oh thirteen red roses that will soon be dead

Shall I box them up for you darling

Perhaps make a hat for your head

Walk me down Ground Street

With a glass in your hand

Talking about behaviour

What I don’t understand

What you want from my hands

Anymore, like before

But please don’t get me wrong

Ohhh whatever that means

And you won’t ever see

Past yourself or past me

And the lines each ones drawn

Thirty-four, fifty-one

But please don’t get me wrong

Ohhh whatever that means