A Bed of Roses

One black, one red and one white.

Pull the petals of the one that’s right.

Will she, won’t she.

Is she, mine to be?

How many roses will it take?

I couldn’t care less, for more I will make.

I smell the flower, but it’s only paper.

Forever mine I will try to make her.

But for now, my time I will bide.

Let her rest as she decides.