She was a flower for the taker
Her beauty would cut you like a knife
He was a banker from Macon,
he swore to love her all his life. He bought
her a mansion on a mountain,
with a formal garden that he dug by hand.
But paradise became her prison
Every time he'd talk about her
You could see the fire in his eyes
I would walk through hell on Sunday
Just to keep my rose in paradise
He hired a man to tend the garden
Some say they ran away together
Some say the gardener left alone
Now the banker, he's an old man
That mansion's a -crumblin' down
He just sits all day and he
Not a trace of her was ever found
Now every time he'd talk about her
You could see the fire in his eyes
I would walk through hell on Sunday
Just to keep my rose in paradise
There's a rose out in the garden
Its beauty would cut you like a knife
They say it even grows in the wintertime
And it blooms in the day of the night
Every time he'd talk about her
You could see the fire in his eyes
He'd say, I would walk to hell on Sunday
Just to keep my rose in paradise
Every time he'd talk about her,
you could see the fire in his eyes.
I would walk through hell on Sunday,
just to keep my rollin' back.
