THE ROSE
Bette Midler
Some say [G] love, it is a [D] river, that [C] drowns, the tender [G] reed.
Some say [G] love, it is a [D] razor, that [C] leaves, your soul to [G] bleed.
Some say [D] love, it is a [C] hunger, an [Am] endless, aching [D] need.
But I say [G] love, it is a [D] flower, and [C] you're, it's only [G] seed.
It's the [G] heart, afraid of [D] breaking, that [C] never, learns to [G] dance.
It's the [G] dream, afraid of [D] waking, that [C] never, takes the [G] chance.
It's the [D] one, who won't be [C] taken, that [Am] cannot, seem to [D] give.
And the [G] soul, afraid of [D] dying, that [C] never, learns to [G] live.
When the [G] night, has been too [D] lonely, and the [C] road, has been too [G]
long,
And you [G] think, that love is [D] only, for the [C] lucky, and the [G] strong,
Just re-[D]-member, in the [C] winter, far [Am] beneath, the bitter [D] snow,
Lies a [G] seed, that with the [D] sun's love, in the [C] spring, becomes the [G]
rose.