I cannot speak of true love,
For I have not found it yet.
I have not found that person,
On whom my heart is set.
I have not felt the rush,
The joy, the great delight,
Of having one’s own dearest,
Within my own clear sight.
'Cause he’s hiding out there somewhere,
Where I do not know,
And so I must believe, one day,
To him, my heart shall go.
But for now my heart is locked up,
Behind a lock and key,
I will not let this loneliness,
Be the end of me.
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