Cold, so cold the heart that’s burned
By love and left a wasteland drear
Dull, so dull the dark brown eyes,
Purged of passion, though once so clear.
Downcast the face that shuns the light
Dark the spirit beset by night.
I cannot be your next true love
We know that’s not our destiny
But love we have and trust we share,
And that’s a thing of rare beauty.
So don’t give up, raise up your head
Just take this hand and draw from me
More strength to rise and love again,
For that is what is meant to be.