This is a song about a rose Or perhaps it's a song about the shadow of a rose In the morning the apple sellers congregate on corners of their own But you and I we sing our song about a rose or perhaps the shadow of a rose With the children of Fribourg and the good thief standing by We consort in silent rendezvous and call the world a lie When our song is but a candle that will one day burn away The children of Fribourg cannot hear what we say This is a song about a rose Of lonely caravans whispering to God To chain the world in prose But people are not singers and life is not a song And even God can only guess Why or where or when or if The answers all belong And you and I we sing our song about a rose Or perhaps the shadow of a rose