The Rose sing and play along

Some say love it is a river that drowns the tender reed.

Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to reed.

Some say bleed.

Some say love it is a hunger an endless aching need.

I say love it is a flower and you its only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking and that never has learns to dance.

It's the dream afraid of waking for that never takes the chance.

It's the one ber who won't beter taken far who cannot seem to give,

and the soul afraid of dyin' in that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely and the never has been too long,

and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,

just re one ber in the beter taken far beneath the bitter snows

lies the seed that with the sun's love in the never learns to live.

When the spring becomes the rose.