{t:The Rose2}
 {st:Bette Midler}
 
 Intro: D (x8)
 
 Some say [D]love, it is a [A]river, that dr[G]owns, [A]the tender [D]reed,
 Some say [D]love, it is a r[A]azor, that le[G]aves, [A]your soul to b[D]leed.
 Some say [F#m]love, it is a [Bm]hunger, an e[G]ndless aching[A]need,
 I say [D]love, it is a [A]flower, and y[G]ou, [A]it's only s[D]eed.
 
 
 It's the he[D]art, afraid of br[A]eaking, that ne[A]ver, l[A]earns to d[D]ance,
 It's the dr[D]eam, afraid of w[A]aking, that ne[G]ver, ta[A]kes the c[D]hance.
 It's the [F#m]one, who won't be [Bm]taken, who [G]cannot seem to [D]give,
 And the [D]soul, afraid of dy[A]in, that n[G]ever, [A]learns to l[D]ive.
 
 
 When the [D]night, has been too l[A]onely, and the [G]road, [A]has been too [D]long,
 And you th[D]ink, that love is o[A]nly, for the [G]lucky, [A]and the s[D]trong.
 Just rem[F#m]ember, in the [Bm]winter, far be[G]neath, the bitter sn[A]ows,
 Lies the se[D]ed, that with the su[A]n’s love,
 In the [G]spring, [A]becomes the [D]rose.