• Love,
    Is like the wind,
    It passes by,
    And leaves nothing,
    Just passes through,
    My heart,
    My soul,
    And never let me,
    Enjoy the feeling,
    The sensation,
    Of being cared for,
    By someone,
    Who really loves me.

    Why is my life,
    So desperate always?
    Why is love,
    Treating me,
    So unkindly?
    I look forever,
    I search forever,
    Look everywhere,
    Search everywhere,
    And all I end,
    Up with is,
    A love that,
    Never lasts long.

    My heart is a,
    Heart of pain.
    It has never,
    Been able to love,
    Someone longer,
    Than it wants to.
    I always love,
    But does,
    That person love me?
    The answers,
    To my questions,
    Are always,
    And different to,
    Take into term.

    Am I suppose,
    To search,
    The rest of,
    My lonely life?
    Where will I go?
    Where will I search?
    I am tired,
    Of searching,
    And wondering,
    Day by day.
    Why must my heart,
    Be all pain,
    And none of love?