The Rose

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 hunger
an endless aching need.
I say love 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 can not seem to give
and the soul afraid of dyin`
that never learns to live.

It`s the night has been too lonely
and road has been too long,
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong.
Just remember in the winter
for beneath the bitter snow lies the seed
that with the sun`s love in the spring
becomes the rose.