I stopped and smelled the roses, br I had always heard to do so, br I once enjoyed their fragrance, br Each day we watched them grow, br br Tropicanas they were, reaching for the sun, br Brightened up the walkway to your door, br I know it's not the roses fault, br But I don't like them anymore, br br Each time I see roses now, br It reminds me of your face, br I have to stop and tell myself.