Some say love it is a river,
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That drowns, the tender reed.
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Some say love it is a razor,
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that leaves your soul to bleed.
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Some say love it is a hunger,
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An endless aching need.
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I say love it is a flower,
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And you it's 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 the 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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And the night has been too lonely,
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And the road has been too long.
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And you feel that love is only,
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for the lucky, and the strong.
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Just remember, in the winter,
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Far beneath the bitter snow,
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Lies a seed, that with the sun's love,
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In the spring, becomes a rose...
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Some say Love
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| LeAnn Rimes |
