Walking through the scarlet snow, how can I tell which way to go?I sense that I've been here before, so many calls that I've ignored...In my chair, rock back and forth, watching dust float to the floor.Perfect is the bloody white rose, reminds me of the blood-streaked snow...Rose thrown to the flames, vase smashed in my hand, blood drips to the floor as i begin to scream, fire beats roses again......
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