segunda-feira, 8 de março de 2010



Maybe the face I can´t forget

A trace of pleasure or regret

Maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay

She maybe the song that summer sings

Maybe the chill that autumm brings,

Maybe a hundred different things

Within the measure of a day.


Maybe the beauty or the beast,

Maybe the famine or the feast,

May turn each day into a heaven or a hell,

She maybe the mirror of my dreams,

A Smille reflected in a stream,

She may not be what she may seen

Inside her shell.


Who always seems so happy in a crowd,

Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,

No one´s allowed to see then when they cry,

She maybe the love that cannot hope to last,

May come to me from shadows of the past,

That I´ll remember till day I die.


Maybe the reason I survive

The why and wherefore I´m alive,

The one I´ll care for through the rough and ready years

Me I´ll take her laugther and her tears,

and make them all my souvenirs

For where sher goes I´ve got to be

The meaning of my life is

She, She, She!