I know your 18th birthday has long passed. But this is my only means of giving you a gift (for now, that is). How I wish to have sung for you on that special day.
She May be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the 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 things
Within 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 a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside 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 them when 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 the rough in ready years
Me I'll take her laughter and 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
