INTRO . . .
She may be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret

Maybe my treasure
or the price I have to pay

She may be the song the summer sings
Maybe the chill that autumn brings

Maybe a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast
Maybe the famine or the feast

May turn each day
into a heaven or a hell

She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream

She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

INSTRUMENTAL

. . . . . . . . .

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 hope
that cannot hope to last

May come to me from
shadows in 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 cared for through
the rough in many years

Me I take the laughter in 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... Oh she...

She