The beats have almost no interval
And the pain is building a house there;
The chambers within are in winter fall
This heart of mine is hurting.
Bring it soup and a warm blanket;
Tell it that there is a true soulmate out there;
Sing it a song to heal;
And cry it a bucket to sympathise.
A hellish fever in the chest;
A terrifying typhoon taking over the mind
-
A forceful plunge through the pericardium,
past the open field of emotions…
This, this is where it hurts;
This, this is how much it hurts
You can tell,
that a lover had not been loving me
No,
Not in a way that is right.
