Come back to me; the flowers are dying, you see,
Mystery,
All turn and leave silently,
You never told me the end of the story.
Rest me now,
Pray for the morning,
Show me how to suffer the mourning.
You never told me the end of the story,
Where are you going?
You never told me.
Nine-and-thirty beats the daylights out of me,
Oh, no, no, no more,
Three, seven, nine,
All fall down another time, on the Way of the Rose.
You never told me the end of the story.
Along the Way of the Rose,
Along the Way of the Rose.
So, wipe clean the brow and cry for yourselves, and for your children,
Autumn comes, a symptom of the times,
Watch the flowers die,
You never told me the end of the story.
Along the Way of the Rose,
Along the Way of the Rose.
You never told me the end of the story.
Along the Way of the Rose,
Along the Way of the Rose,
So baby, the Way of the Rose,
Along the Way of the Rose.
