Roses

I used to scull down a bottle of wine, while I ran through the roses. 
It was more about getting drunk, and less about drinking.
 
So you made me skip to the final page, just to teach me a lesson.
Then wondered why I’d didn’t read the bloody rest, since I knew how it ended.
 
Now I’m thinking back to the very last time we took time over fine wine.
Can the silent policeman tell me why…we tried?
 
I never stopped on a tourist drive, to look at the roses.
It was more about making good time, just so I could get home.
 
Now I’m thinking back to the very last time we decided on a nice drive.
Can the silent policeman tell me why…we tried?
 
What lies did he tell you?  (He’s not real)
Can’t you take the hint?  (going, going…gone)
Its not that you don’t take the time.  (if you don’t, he’ll punish you)
But you are taking nothing back.
 
I’m not planning a final meal, just smelling the roses.
Now it’s less about staying alive, and more about living.
Now I’m dreaming about the very next time we’ll dine with the divine.
Let the silent policeman pour the wine…all night.

Lyrics by John Berry