O Rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
O Rose, thou art sick from the invisible worm
That flies in the night in the howling storm
Has found out thy bed of crimson joy and his dark secret love
Has found out thy bed of crimson joy and his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
Does thy life destroy
