What´s come to stay from your cannonball days
But a house and some clothes on the line?
You fired away with your drunken brigade
In the streets of New York as a child
A woman so fine, yeah, fine as a girl
Slow like an Italian wine
Her hair all a mess and her dress all disheveled
But all of your roses have died

Better luck in the next life
´Cause your gonna need it, dear
Loved you back then but I couldn´t say when
All of your roses have died
All of your roses have died

I tasted your lips, put my hands on your hips
Danced in apartment A-9
Your cats on the sill and my head to your breast
Feeding your rhythms divine

A west Jersey queen with a rattle machine
Tasted the salt through your skin
Loved you back then but I couldn´t say when
All of your roses have died

Better luck in the next life
Go give them some hell and goodbye
Loved you back then but I couldn´t say when
All of your roses have died
All of your roses have died

A bask in the heat down on Christopher Street
Bought you a rose from a bum
Left you a note that I stuffed in your coat
You laughed and you said it was dumb

You broke like a stem and I guess you´re with him
I´m sure that he treats you just fine
So bottoms up, cheers, baby, here´s to your tears
All of your roses have died

Better luck in the next life
I´ll miss you but go on, goodbye
I feel like a straight from his cannonball days
When all of your roses were mine
When all of your roses were mine