The dogs are howling at the midnight moon.
Iím on my way to where the black rose blooms.
The mountainís high, the night is cold.
I feel the sunshine; a black rose grows.
Together again, weíre as common as sin, they say,
We just walk around the stones they throw.
Night after night, we steal away to where
Love donít see no colors in the shadows,
Love donít see no colors in the shadows.
Wind in the willows, wild and warm,
Just like the woman lying here in my arms.
The waterís deep, cold and still.
I love the feeling that black rose gives.