The heart wants what the heart wants, sometimes with rhyme and sometimes without any.
The heart is a fool and also a buffoon, A rogue at times and at others downright scoundrel. But what can you possibly do about it. For all the times the heart has turned roguish and made life miserable, you can only sit and count the seconds, the long lasting seconds. The ones which just tick by and roll into newer seconds of the same type. Wretched and miserable.
and unbearably painful.
And pray and cry and cry and pray and maybe cry some more.
Wretched and miserable
The heart is a fool and also a buffoon, A rogue at times and at others downright scoundrel. But what can you possibly do about it. For all the times the heart has turned roguish and made life miserable, you can only sit and count the seconds, the long lasting seconds. The ones which just tick by and roll into newer seconds of the same type. Wretched and miserable.
and unbearably painful.
And pray and cry and cry and pray and maybe cry some more.
Wretched and miserable
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