B O S S Y V A L L

So you were never a saint and I've loved in shapes of wrong

Ella



She
May be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure I regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that Solomon sings
May be the chill that Autumn brings
May be a hundred tearful things
Within the measure of a day

She
May be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy and proud
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that can and hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I remember till the day I die

She may be the reason I survived
The why and where for I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and rainy years
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I got to be
The meaning of my life is...

She, she, she

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