Love has a way of lifting me up
To the summit of joy's highest hill,
Where I crowd the sky with heart-shaped clouds,
Using my fingertip as a quill;
Then mercilessly, Love dashes me
Headlong into heartache's stony rill

Love has a way of seducing me,
Even though I know I should beware --
So shrewdly it practices its art
Till I'm hopelessly caught in its snare;
Then what sadness overtakes the hour
When Love's broken vows defile the air

Love has a way of playing cruel games,
Leading my heart through an endless maze
Of sorrow, joy, then bewilderment --
At times, how it deceives and betrays!
Yet, Love remains master of my heart --
Through smiles and tears I will sing its praise