White roses-cover by Sasha

A little warmer behind the glass, but angry frosts I enter these windows, as if in a garden of July flowers I want them so warm, but white In front of everyone I kiss and to caress ready I want them so warm, but white In front of everyone I kiss and to caress ready White roses, white roses, defenseless thorns What made them snow and frost, ice blue vitrine People will save you their holiday only for a few days And they leave you dying on a white, cold window And people take you with them and late at night