You don't remember all the things I've done; You never catch the careful words I choose; Your present will not admit my patient efforts - It's a labour of love I offer to you.
Unselfishness - does that hold the space between us? A helplessness, a nothing-left-to-prove? A silent more eloquent than any passion? ...It's a labour of love I offer to you... ...It's a gift of love.
Take this hand and you will hold its stories; Beat, the heart, and find the tell-tale true; Take this gift: receipt will give it value - It's a labour of love I offer to you, It's a gift of love.
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