She may be the face I can't forget, 
A trace of pleasure or regret, 
May be my treasure or 
The price I have to pay 

She may be the song that summer sings, 
May be the chill that autumn brings, 
May be a hundred different 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 a 
Heaven or a hell. 

She may be the mirror of my dream, 
A smile reflected in a stream, 
She may not be what she may seem 
Inside her shell. 

She who always seems so happy in a crowd, 
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 cannot 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 survive, 
The why and wherefore 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've got to be. 
The meaning of my life is she, she, she--.

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