Love Love Love
Well, maybe I’m a crook for stealing your heart away
Yeah, maybe I’m a crook for not caring for it
Yeah, maybe I’m a bad, bad, bad… bad person
Well, baby I know.
And these fingertips
Will never run through your skin
And Those bright blue eyes
Can only meet mine across the room
Filled with people that are less important than you
‘Cause you love, love, love
When you know I can’t love
You love, love, love
When you know I can’t love
You love, love, love
When you know I can’t love you
So I think it’s best
We both forget
Before we dwell on it
The way you held me so tight
All through the night
‘til it was near morning
‘Cause you love, love, love
When you know I can’t love
You love, love, love
When you know I can’t love
You love, love, love
When you know I can’t love you
Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion… love actually is all around.
— Love Actually, so good.
