Heart is something, which we all give,
To someone for whom, we ever live,
It comes and comes but goes by,
Live for it, we have to die.
And in the end, we go till then,
To the hall of down-under men,
But till we live, we give our hearts away,
But its always used in a way.
I still remember that holy day,
When our sins were washed away,
I still remember that pious night,
It seemed that hatred had no might.
That time i thought, something must be done,
And that night, my life was won,
And so pretty was that delicate face,
It was nothing but God's grace.
It comes to one, it comes to all,
And in the end it conquers all,
That's a thing, which is all above,
That's a thing, which we call Love.
