ROSA
Love is but a word that wandered here from pastures green
Where it was rarely said or seen and seldom sung
Innocent enough, it was intended to be used on rare occasions
Not abused by every tongue
Rarely has a word been ever taken so in vain -
What little meaning might remain is quickly blurred
Never has there been so quite exhausted such a term -
Your sighs and syllables confirm how drained this word

ROSA / JASPER
You call it love. / I call it love
I call it rude. / You call it rude
I call it lust. / You think me just
I call it lewd. / A bit too crude
I call it cruel. / And I the fool
I cannot bear / Yet I still dare
To call it love. / To call it love

I think it foul. / I see you scowl
I think it vile. / You see me smile
No more I'll take / 'Tis you I'll break!
Of cunning guile. / I've no denial
You're worse than bad: / My words are mad:
You give to sin / I speak them in
The name of love. / The name of love
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