Where dose reality end and the nightmare begin? I close my eyes and dream up a perfect world inside my head, and in that dream she's f**ing dead Why can't it be real? I want to hurt her; she's justified her own murder No rose is without it's thorns, and my blood is fresh on yours With one hand I stroke her hair, while the other attempts to remove a heart that's not there I want to see her name carved in stone No rose is without its thorns, and my blood is fresh on yours