No storm, no weather, no disaster
Can determine the turn of the tides
No words, no rhyme, no reason
Can change a foolish heart

No thought, no rationalization
Can bring a soul to its knees
No man, no woman
Can bend your love to me

But the quietspeak of your mind
May enjoy the sunshine air
The diminishing flutters of your heart
May open yourself up to the possibility

That maybe, after all,
When the moon is ripe
And the stars collide
You will see... me.