I Walk With a Heavy Heart
My heart is a flame of its own
Good or bad, it's a question of its own
It pounds like the clapping of two basic spoons
With a bass, a soprano, an alto and a tenor altogether
It's loud whether slow or fast
Because either way it rules the vast
It's heat is a beauty to the eye
It's heat is a vulture on the hunt
It burns the tips of the roots
Hard to rescue when everything is falling apart
The fires grow, the rescuers crow
The mornings short, the nights the longest
The worries in dew collects and fortifys the pain
The dreams of tomorrow, the nightmares of today
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