If

If the morning disappeared, what would become of our memories?

If warmth disappeared, what would become of our embraces?

Without a heart, the words would soon run out.

Without you, there is no me.

Does love have a cycle?

Can it stay fresh forever?

If it could, then the hurt would be just right. Love is always playing games,

moving from one heart to another.

If you want to, give me your heart.

If we had light, what would become of the darkness?

If we had courage, what would become of the future?

Without a heart, the words would soon run out.

Without you, there is no me.

Does love have a cycle?

Can it stay fresh forever?

If it could, then the hurt would be just right, oh

Love is always playing games,

moving from one heart to another.

If you want to, give me your heart.