I'm trying hard to see the pretty picture that you paint for me. Promises are like little diamonds. Promises are like little hearts you meant to give away. I thought you'd want them back someday. I've kept them for you anyway, but I know when I've been given hard promises to keep.
Wild roses open their hearts gently by the by.
Wild roses grow unattended and nobody ever knows why. When the sun goes down in the valley there's music in the night that it brings, and the roses quietly listen to the song that the whipporwill sings. Wild roses grow unattended and nobody ever knows why. You won't hear the sound of them leaving as they softly fade into the snow, and they don't really care if you pick them. Wild roses just grow by the side of the road.