I don't know what love is,

Well, that's what they said.

As they went and spouted that nonsense

To their flavor of the week.

I don't know what love is?

I wonder...

What is it that I feel,

Playing French horn,

Mastering that solo for the first time?

What about when I play my ukulele,

And I hit every note right,

And I sing with good tone,

What is that?

Am I imagining the strength,

The power of what I experience,

When I walk through the doors of my church?

When I see my better half,

Waiting for me at the door,

Lending me his coat--

even though it's too small--

Am I stupid for feeling warmth in my bones?

I don't know what love is...

That's what they tell me,

But I wonder...

What kind of love do they know,

That somehow is beyond me?

Do they know what love is?

Maybe--one day--they'll find someone to teach them.

Someone to change their mind.