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Description
Please, would you all stand and give a round of applause
For that 'wonderful' feeling that opens the doors
On men's fickle hearts, and all women's souls....
...And leaves us all nursing hearts ridden with holes.

"What is this thing called love;", you ask
"This painful emotion, never taken to task?"
Well sit down, relax, I've figured it out
The pessimist's view on what love's all about.

}----->~<-----{

Love is the broadsword; glittering, bright
That sets hearts afire and cuts through the night
Then starts to feel leaden and heavy in hand
And after a time you're unable to stand

Love is the stone well, that's built to endure
Filled to the brim of fresh springwater pure
But love makes you lean over, topple and fall
Treading water for hours with no one to call

Love is the call of the nightingale's song
Every single note perfect, but never for long
For the song is a siren call from Pandora's box
And if you listen for too long, you're dashed on the rocks

Love is a pearl from a plain oyster's mouth
No equal in beauty from north to the south
But with the slightest small pressure on its elegant crust
It crumbles before you and turns into dust

Love is an eagle's flight - on top of the world
Where the horizons surround you, and the landscape's unfurled
Held aloft by another's review of your worth
The smallest reduction and you plummet to Earth

Love is a vision of what heaven must be
Myriads of joyous times and sweet ecstacy
Nirvana for Christians and the odd hedonist
But for the rest of us down here, it doesn't exist

}----->~<-----{

Now I've stated my piece with limited grace
And you're entitled to argue 'til you're blue in the face
But sling no assurances, hurl no more clichés
For there's times when they're helpful, but gone are those days

But if you, by some miracle, are in love, then take heed
I issue no warning, for no warning you need
For there's proof to suggest that love's blissful and strong
But in my experience, it's never for long

But why listen to me? In this, I make my own bed
In which I repeatedly must lie and rest my own head
To allay myself of some of my innermost fears
Covered in linen of blood, sweat and tears

So if you disagree with my rant; which you most certainly may
You're in love and 'all power to you', I must say
I speak from experience: it's the stage that I'm at
Love is as love does.
And that, love, is that.

Description
Please, would you all stand and give a round of applause
For that 'wonderful' feeling that opens the doors
On men's fickle hearts, and all women's souls....
...And leaves us all nursing hearts ridden with holes.

"What is this thing called love;", you ask
"This painful emotion, never taken to task?"
Well sit down, relax, I've figured it out
The pessimist's view on what love's all about.

}----->~<-----{

Love is the broadsword; glittering, bright
That sets hearts afire and cuts through the night
Then starts to feel leaden and heavy in hand
And after a time you're unable to stand

Love is the stone well, that's built to endure
Filled to the brim of fresh springwater pure
But love makes you lean over, topple and fall
Treading water for hours with no one to call

Love is the call of the nightingale's song
Every single note perfect, but never for long
For the song is a siren call from Pandora's box
And if you listen for too long, you're dashed on the rocks

Love is a pearl from a plain oyster's mouth
No equal in beauty from north to the south
But with the slightest small pressure on its elegant crust
It crumbles before you and turns into dust

Love is an eagle's flight - on top of the world
Where the horizons surround you, and the landscape's unfurled
Held aloft by another's review of your worth
The smallest reduction and you plummet to Earth

Love is a vision of what heaven must be
Myriads of joyous times and sweet ecstacy
Nirvana for Christians and the odd hedonist
But for the rest of us down here, it doesn't exist

}----->~<-----{

Now I've stated my piece with limited grace
And you're entitled to argue 'til you're blue in the face
But sling no assurances, hurl no more clichés
For there's times when they're helpful, but gone are those days

But if you, by some miracle, are in love, then take heed
I issue no warning, for no warning you need
For there's proof to suggest that love's blissful and strong
But in my experience, it's never for long

But why listen to me? In this, I make my own bed
In which I repeatedly must lie and rest my own head
To allay myself of some of my innermost fears
Covered in linen of blood, sweat and tears

So if you disagree with my rant; which you most certainly may
You're in love and 'all power to you', I must say
I speak from experience: it's the stage that I'm at
Love is as love does.
And that, love, is that.