The Rose
Some say love it is a riverThat drowns the tender reed,Some say love it is a razorThat leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love it is a hungerAn endless, aching needI say love it is a flower,And you it's only seed.
It's the heart afraid of breakingThat never learns to danceIt's the dream afraid of wakingThat never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken,Who cannot seem to giveAnd the soul afraid of dyingThat never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonelyAnd the road has been too longAnd you think that love is onlyFor the lucky and the strong.
Just remember in the winterFar beneath the bitter snowLies the seed that with the sun's love,In the spring, becomes the rose.