Roses are blood red, violets are twilight-hued oh how I wish I was dead so that I no longer have to brood. Death would be a reprieve as I would no longer have to be true, and I would no longer have to be around any of you.
Roses are blood red, violets are twilight-hued oh how I wish I was dead so that I no longer have to brood. Death would be a reprieve as I would no longer have to be true, and I would no longer have to be around any of you.
We can nip March Madness in the bud, but only if we detect the warning signs of brooding, anti-social February Fever.
