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I was walking down the road, and i saw a beautiful rose. I took the plant to my palace, and i said in my head. It will bllom, it will shine, smell so nice in my life. Little little did i know it was a rose for grave, in my garden did i sow a beutiful rose for my grave. Now i'm sleeping on a deathbead, and my tears, never dry. and i'm mourning like a songbird, and i humn the saddest song. And this rose on my bed side, is still blooming bright and nice. Any bee, that shall choose my flower, will drink poison from her cup. She will bloom, she will smell so nice, while you are gone. Beauty is vain, beauty is vain, says the preacher, if you don't listen, pain is your next teacher.