The Burning On Saint Ave

Desperate roses blow in the wind...

My poverty has stricken me once again

Don't let your sister break your soul

For the sweet song of a flower

Brings slaves to the water

I am a slave to this town

And I am your sister

Walking down trials and tribulations

That I can't ignore

Oh sweet brother, take my hand

For I am heaven in a heart-shaped box

This burning building was once our house

Now we are poor

But at least we are together;

Brother and sister, sister and brother

Don't let this world break our souls once more

For mommy and daddy would be so proud

That we are strong as a family

Sweet roses don't stay forever

Yet the air is just as sweet

Like morning dew in the rain

And the sun upon the children

Oh how can I write these notes in a song

As eternity comes to console us?

For the burning on Saint Ave

Will never be the same...

The memories, the lamp,

The old tea kettle on the stove;

For thirty years in this house

Has turned to ashes

Now I write a song for you, my brother

And I shall sing it to you

In your heart,

And I love you so much for all these years

And I hold you in my heart

Forever;

Tell mommy and daddy I am proud of them

As this house burns

We burn together

In the miracle of Saint Ave.