In The Spring The Roses Always Turn Red

In the spring the roses always turn red

But not if you don’t have some place to lay your weary head

Now my woman she don’t cry anymore

She got use to dusty highways ragged clothes and living poor

I met her she was seventeen in the springtime of her years

Side by side we laughed and cried but the good times disappeared

And all she had left was some wore out hand me downs

An album full of photographs and the good time party gals

In the spring the roses always turn red

But not if you don’t have some place to lay your weary head

Now my woman she don’t cry anymore

She got use to dusty highways ragged clothes and living poor

I meant to fill up her cup with a new kind of life

Cause the pain inside her heart really cut me like a knife

We went running across the country with grit in our eyes

Sometimes she wished to God that she could lay right down and die

In the spring the roses always turn red

But not if you don’t have some place to lay your weary head

Now my woman she don’t cry anymore

She got use to dusty highways ragged clothes and living poor

Now every Sunday I take roses where she was laid to rest

It’s a lonely world without her it gets hard to do your best

But there’s a road that leads to heaven where there’s no more pain to bear

I’m gonna do my best to make it cause I know that she’ll be there

In the spring the roses always turn red

But not if you don’t have some place to lay your weary head

Now my woman she don’t cry anymore

She got use to dusty highways ragged clothes and living poor