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