Robert Miles - 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 a hunger, an endless acking need,
I say love it is a flower, and you it`s only seed.
It`s the hart 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 dieing, that never learns to live.
When the night has been to lonely, and the road has been to long,
And 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 love,
in the spring becomes the rose