|
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 learns to dance. |
|
It's the dream afraid of waking |
|
that never takes the chance. |
|
It's the one who won't be taken, |
|
who cannot seem to give, |
|
|
|
|
|
And the soul afraid of dyin' |
|
that never learns to live. |
|
|
|
When the night has been too 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 snows |
|
|
|
Lies the seed that with the sun's love |
|
In the spring becomes the rose. |