The Rose

Some say love, it is a river,

that drowns a tender reef.

Some say love, it is a razor,

that leeds a soul to bleed.

Some say love, it is a hunger,

an endless aching need.

I say love, it is a flower,

and you it's only seed.

It's the soul, afraid of dreaming,

that never learns to dance.

It's the soul, afraid of waking,

that never takes a 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 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 sun's love

in the spring becomes the Rose.