She may be the face I can't forget, a trace of pleasure or regret, maybe the treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that 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, the smile reflected in the stream. She may not be what she may seem inside her shell. She who always seems so happy and unproud, 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 hold to last, may come to me from the shadows of the past, that I'll remember till the day I die. She may be the reason I survive, the one I wait for while I'm alive, the one I care for through the rough and 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 make the meaning of my life this year. She may be the love that cannot hold to last, may come to me from the shadows of the past, that I'll remember till the day I die. She may be the reason I survive, the one I wait for while I'm alive, the one I care for through the rough and 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 make the meaning of my life this year. This year. The meaning of my life this year.