You don't remember all the things I've done;

You never catch the careful words I choose;

Your present will not admit my patient efforts -

It's a labour of love I offer to you.

Unselfishness - does that hold the space between us?

A helplessness, a nothing-left-to-prove?

A silent more eloquent than any passion?

...It's a labour of love I offer to you...

...It's a gift of love.

Take this hand and you will hold its stories;

Beat, the heart, and find the tell-tale true;

Take this gift: receipt will give it value -

It's a labour of love I offer to you,

It's a gift of love.