They say the Black Rose doesn’t grow in gardens. It blooms where something has ended — at the edge of a field after the fire, beside a fence that’s seen too many goodbyes. No one plants it. No one tends it. It rises on its own from hard ground, dark as midnight and stubborn as memory. Some call it a curse. Others say it’s proof that even in the aftermath, something rare can still take root. If you ever find one, you don’t pick it. You let it stand — a reminder that not all beauty asks to be saved.

—

[Verse 1]
I found you growing in the rain
On a street without a name
You were dark as midnight skies
But your silence said goodbye

Your thorns didn’t cut me like they should
Maybe I misunderstood
You were never reaching out
You just sowed seeds of doubt

[Chorus]
Black rose, breaking through the light
How you grow in places where flowers die
You were born of shadow, still you try
To make a garden out of goodbye

[Verse 2]
I played your name on my old guitar
A song that never got too far
This ballad in disguise
Underneath your lullaby

And still I don’t know what you meant
But I keep that faint lament
Like perfume on a winter coat
Or a letter that I never wrote

[Chorus]
Black rose, breaking through the light
How you grow in places
Where flowers die
You were born of shadow, still you try
To make a garden out of goodbye

[Bridge]
Faded streets on cloudy days
Your smile cuts through the smoky haze
Was it love or just a pose
I’ll never know
My black rose

[Final Chorus]
Black rose, I see you in my sleep
Dancing where the wounds run deep
Even dusk can hold a spark
And bloom a rose inside the dark

—

Written by Rob Charron & Eddy Bugnut
Mixed by Eddy Bugnut

songsterr.com/a/wsa/first-country-black-rose-first-country-tab-s4121085/r5396365