The Rose - Bette Midler

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 need.

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 cannot seem to b'lieve.
And the soul afraid of dying
that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long;
Then to think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong;

Just remember, in the winter,
far beneath the bitters snows,
Lies the seed that, with the sun's love
in the spring, becomes the Rose.