Oh, that my heart were made of stone

cold,  lifeless,  blissfully hardend

Woe to me is my living, beating heart

Pulsating only to the memory of your touch

endlessly aching, aching, all for the want of you

Be still my heart for I’ve no need of it  now

let it be unstirring, barren and numbed

Oh, that my heart were made of stone

that it may never be broken again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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