Bette Midler - Rose

Some say ^Clove it is a ^Griver That ^Fdrowns^G the tender ^Creed Some say love it is a ^Grazor That ^Fleaves^G your soul to ^Cbleed

^CSome say ^Emlove it is a ^Amhunger An ^Fendless aching ^Gneed I say ^Clove it is a ^Gflower And ^Fyou^G it's only ^Cseed

It's the ^Cheart afraid of ^Gbreaking That ^Fnever^G learns to ^Cdance It's the dream afraid of ^Gwaking that ^Fnever^G takes the ^Cchance

It's the ^Emone who won't be ^Amtaken Who can^Fnot seem to ^Ggive And the ^Csoul afraid of ^Gdying that ^Fnever^G learns to ^Clive

When the ^Cnight has been too ^Glonely And the ^Froad^G has been too ^Clong And you think that love is ^Gonly For the ^Flucky^G and the ^Cstrong

Just re^Emmember in the ^Amwinter far be^Fneath the bitter ^Gsnows Lies the ^Cseed That with the ^Gsun's love In the ^Fspring^G Becomes the ^Crose