Some say love,
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It is a river that drowns the tender reed.
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Some say love,
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It is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.
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Some say love,
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It is a hunger, an endless aching need.
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I say love, it is a flower,
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and you its only seed.
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It's the heart, afraid of breaking,
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That never learns to dance.
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It's the dream, afraid of waking,
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That never takes a chance.
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It's the one who won't be taken,
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Who cannot seem to give.
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And the soul, afraid of dying,
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that never learns to live.
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When the night has been too lonely,
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And the road has been to long,
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And you think that love is only for
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The lucky and the strong
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Just remember
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in the winter far beneath the bitter snows
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Lies the seed that with the sun's love
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In the spring becomes the rose.
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The Rose
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| Michael Ball |
