"She may be the face I can't forget,A trace of pleasure or regret,May be my treasure orThe 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 thingsWithin 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 aHeaven or a hell.
She may be the mirror of my dream,A smile reflected in a stream,She may not be what she may seemInside 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 themWhen they cry.
She may be the love that cannot hope to last,May come to me from shadows of the past,That I'll 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 theRough and ready years.
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tearsAnd make them all my souvenirsFor where she goes I've got to be.The meaning of my life is she, she, she