| I asked the old bandito
|
| What should I do to get her back
|
| She’s been taken by a bad man
|
| His ways are wrong, his heart is black
|
| Should I try to make a rescue
|
| Or wait until he sets her free
|
| The old bandito looked in the distance
|
| Drank his tequila and said to me
|
| There are no roses without thorns
|
| Here in this desert where I was born
|
| Between pain and duty all men are torn
|
| There are no roses without thorns
|
| Then I asked the old bandito
|
| What if I win her back someday
|
| What should I do to try to keep her
|
| What should I do to make her stay
|
| Boy, please heed my answer
|
| For there can be but only one
|
| When you win her from your rival
|
| The struggle has just begun
|
| There are no roses without thorns
|
| Here in this desert where I was born
|
| Between pain and duty all men are torn
|
| There are no roses without thorns
|
| I fought for her and won her
|
| From my rival I set her free
|
| But every night it haunts me
|
| What the bandito said to me
|
| Boy, if you fight for her and you win her
|
| Just remember if you do
|
| You must try your best to hold her
|
| Without binding her to you
|
| There are no roses without thorns
|
| Here in this desert where I was born
|
| Between pain and duty all men are torn
|
| There are no roses without thorns
|
| No, no, no
|
| No, no, no
|
| No, no, no, no
|
| No, no, no
|
| No, no, no
|
| Roses without thorns
|
| No, no, no
|
| Roses without thorns |