we're the warriors of romance, roses tattooed to our skins   clenching pencils tight we wait for battle to begin.    reality's upon us and the fields are glowing red   there's nothing we won't die for cause this life itself is dead      and i choose to hold my ground and fight      recalling back to once upon a time, deep in a dream   when someone spoke of love, i didn't ask 'what do you mean?'   it's a magic in the air, transcending tangibility   i know that it still calls you cause it screams inside of me      there's something left in this dream      ~ there's a darkness closing in   through damage in our armour, it sinks into our skin   this coldness takes it away, that which makes us free   it's something i won't accept, no power over me.      a rose buries it's thorns into a cemetery yard   it's thorns are long and twisted and it's stem is thin and dark   though it's pedals shine on in the gothic reverie   the death that feeds it's light is that of creativity.       And I choose to hold my ground and fight