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.
ItUs the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.
ItUs the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.
ItUs the one who wonUt be taken, who cannot seem to give,
and the soul afraid of dyinU that never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely and the raod has been too 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 sunUs love in the spring becomes the rose
