Some say Łove, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed. Some say Łove, it is a razor, that leads your soul to bleed. Some say Łove, it is a hunger, an endless aching need. I say Łove, it is a flower, and you it's 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 dying that never learns to live. When the night has been too lonely, an the road has been too long, When 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 sun's Łove, In the spring becomes The Rose. Song By Bette Midler |
