Woorden: Sarah Brightman. What Makes Me Love Him?.
What makes me love him?
It's not his singing,
I've heard his singing,
It sours the milk
And yet, it's gotten to the point
Where I prefer that kind of milk.
What makes me love him?
It's not his learning.
He's learned so slowly,
His whole life long
And though he really knows
A multitude of things
They're mostly wrong.
He's not romantic,
And yet I love him.
No one occasion
He's used me ill
And though he's handsome
I know inside me
Were he a plain man
I'd love him still.
What makes me love him?
It's quite beyond me,
It must be something
I can't define.
Unless it's merely
That he's masculine
And that he's mine.
It's not his singing,
I've heard his singing,
It sours the milk
And yet, it's gotten to the point
Where I prefer that kind of milk.
What makes me love him?
It's not his learning.
He's learned so slowly,
His whole life long
And though he really knows
A multitude of things
They're mostly wrong.
He's not romantic,
And yet I love him.
No one occasion
He's used me ill
And though he's handsome
I know inside me
Were he a plain man
I'd love him still.
What makes me love him?
It's quite beyond me,
It must be something
I can't define.
Unless it's merely
That he's masculine
And that he's mine.
Sarah Brightman
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