Cemetery Rose
Posted: April 5th, 2006, 12:35 am
I want thank darkfaze2003, who I know from another board and who some of you may know, for allowing me to record this song. I loved it when I heard it on the board and, after receiving two of his CDs, my attraction to “Cemetery Rose” became even stronger.
For anyone who saw “Saving Private Ryan”, you know that the beginning of that film took place 50 or so years after the death of the lieutenant played by Tom Hanks.
Although the subject is a bit different, I could see the person in this song visiting the grave of her lover, who died in the savage, animal activity that we call war. It could be in the future, in reference to this mess we have going on in Iraq. It could be today in reference to The Korean “Conflict” or the Vietnam “Police Action”. Orwell was a genius.
Anyway, thanks, Jason. I enjoyed recording this. It really touched me. I hope it’s OK by you.
Audio
On the plains of south Texas, in grey raining cold,
in a lonesome old graveyard blooms one single rose.
It’s a rose garnet red, that she planted in grief,
and it blooms just one day, has not one single leaf.
It’s a cemetery rose, blooming in the cold.
It’s a cemetery rose, watching her grow old.
It’s a cemetery rose, planted at his feet.
It’s a cemetery rose, watered when she weeps
Its branches are brown and its steel thorns they are grey
and she planted that rose on her own wedding day.
At the altar they told her, “Your lover is dead.”
Now fifty years later she still has not wed.
It’s a cemetery rose blooming in the cold.
It’s a cemetery rose, watching her grow old.
It’s a cemetery rose, planted at his feet.
Its a cemetery rose, watered when she weeps.
She holds fast to a branch, to hold his hand in hers
and for one tragic moment, the two worlds they merge.
As the pain of the thorns that are piercing her flesh
weds the pain of the sorrow she feels in her chest.
It’s a cemetery rose blooming in the cold.
It’s a cemetery rose, watching her grow old.
It’s a cemetery rose, planted at his feet.
Its a cemetery rose, watered when she weeps.
Don’t know where she comes from.
Don’t know where she goes.
Behind her back they call her
“Cemetery Rose”.
To friendship,
Michael
“War against a foreign country only happens when the moneyed classes think they are going to profit from it.” – George Orwell
The Mind Of Michael
Speak Your Mind And Read Mine
Written by Jason Oliver
Copyright by Jason Oliver tx78644 ASCAP
Reproduced with permission from Jason Oliver
For anyone who saw “Saving Private Ryan”, you know that the beginning of that film took place 50 or so years after the death of the lieutenant played by Tom Hanks.
Although the subject is a bit different, I could see the person in this song visiting the grave of her lover, who died in the savage, animal activity that we call war. It could be in the future, in reference to this mess we have going on in Iraq. It could be today in reference to The Korean “Conflict” or the Vietnam “Police Action”. Orwell was a genius.
Anyway, thanks, Jason. I enjoyed recording this. It really touched me. I hope it’s OK by you.
Audio
On the plains of south Texas, in grey raining cold,
in a lonesome old graveyard blooms one single rose.
It’s a rose garnet red, that she planted in grief,
and it blooms just one day, has not one single leaf.
It’s a cemetery rose, blooming in the cold.
It’s a cemetery rose, watching her grow old.
It’s a cemetery rose, planted at his feet.
It’s a cemetery rose, watered when she weeps
Its branches are brown and its steel thorns they are grey
and she planted that rose on her own wedding day.
At the altar they told her, “Your lover is dead.”
Now fifty years later she still has not wed.
It’s a cemetery rose blooming in the cold.
It’s a cemetery rose, watching her grow old.
It’s a cemetery rose, planted at his feet.
Its a cemetery rose, watered when she weeps.
She holds fast to a branch, to hold his hand in hers
and for one tragic moment, the two worlds they merge.
As the pain of the thorns that are piercing her flesh
weds the pain of the sorrow she feels in her chest.
It’s a cemetery rose blooming in the cold.
It’s a cemetery rose, watching her grow old.
It’s a cemetery rose, planted at his feet.
Its a cemetery rose, watered when she weeps.
Don’t know where she comes from.
Don’t know where she goes.
Behind her back they call her
“Cemetery Rose”.
To friendship,
Michael
“War against a foreign country only happens when the moneyed classes think they are going to profit from it.” – George Orwell
The Mind Of Michael
Speak Your Mind And Read Mine
Written by Jason Oliver
Copyright by Jason Oliver tx78644 ASCAP
Reproduced with permission from Jason Oliver