Love Is A Many Splendoured Thing

Love is a many splendoured thing
For all its worthless being.
It exists for none and no one
Which is why it's so appealing.

It breaks up friendships, sends most mad
It drives some of us to death.
Yet most would give their upper arms
To smell holy Love's sweet breath.

Love is just one of the services
On the motorway of life.
People stop there to avoid the place
Of bitterness and strife.

But despite all this, it's featured in
All music, films and books.
It's the excuse to give for everything
However bad it looks.

"I did it for love," anyone can claim
And always they're set free.
If it can work for all of them
Why can't it work for me?