He sleeps tonight,
That child in the alley,
Using the blanket I gave him last night.
He crouches in the darkness,
Trying to keep warm,
Trying to maintain his miserable life,
To keep his dead soul trapped.
To make sure he doesn't leave this cursed place,
Not without making an impresion first,
Not without making sure that people knew he existed.

Last night, his soul escaped.
It flew off into the heavens and he was now alone.
He wasn't dead yet, just empty, that's all.
Now when I pass by him, I don't give him food or clothing,
I give him a red rose.
A red rose for a dying child, I'd say,
As I hand him it and smile.
He looks up at me and thanks me for it,
Because he knows I'm right, and he awaits his fate.
What was once his fear and enemy has now become his escape,
The day he has always been avoiding has now finally come.
A red rose for a dying child, I'd say,
And a white one for the dead.

He sleeps now.
He has left this dreadful place,
Because he has fulfilled his vows.
He made an impression and the world knows he exists,
Because I knew him, I talked to him,
I knew.
That's all he ever wanted,
That child.
I visit the same spot where he used to try to keep warm,
Huddled up in the blanket I gave him.
The ritual continues every night,
Even though he is gone.
A red rose for the dying child, I'd say;

And a white one for the dead.

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