shedding it, there is no strife...
Roses are always roses,
in that, not even chaos looses...
Crimson is soul of the roses,
no matter what the chaos chooses...
Roses, as fragile as they are,
only their lovers, that fragility scare...
That razor, deeper in your wrist sink,
in roses, more your soul it link...
Do not fear, thorns will not spear,
just be here, feel yourself dear...
I see distortion, demons are here,
I hunt them, I trap them in sphere...
Still, chaos is our mother,
and chaos is our father...
I look and see, love is there,
do you dare to interfere...
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