Of my heart, I sit with it,
with it in pieces that can't be fixed,
and of my heart, there is no spark,
just memories in my mind,
and emptiness inside me,
that won't quit,
and as the shadows of the night,
they envelope me,
I wander in my thoughts,
and there is no pause,
no pause from the bombacity,
of the savagery of doubts,
that I wear upon my brow,
with as many furrows as sorrow allows,
and with sorrowful remorse,
and, as I ponder this darkness of the soul,
the moon, I am sure it pities me,
and as it shines,
I wish I could steal its light,
and brighten up me,
and this misery,
is as cruel as can be,
and how I wish,
happiness wasn't as fleeting,
as it mostly seems to be,
oh, my heart, oh, my heart,
how many tears must come from my memories,
from my memories,
for it seems there will be no land if this continues,
and only an ocean,
the size of which has never been seen,
and I am drowning in me,
drowning in me,
unable to divert myself,
from my thoughts,
from my thoughts of the love that used to be.
