My temple is now tainted
With pretty white roses and a new fragrance
Don’t worry dear,
It will be gone soon

Isn’t it funny how black and white it was?
And now with the sunrise comes gray foggy mornings
Holding your breath as you hold in your stories
And immediately let them spill out

Suppose it were a key to the new you
Or I am just finally free of myself?
You still miss the white roses
But you won’t say that anymore