Above All Things
The heart is foolish,
A victim of its own deceit.
The heart is stubborn,
It weakens with every beat.
Above all, the heart is a keeper of things rancid.
It will not listen, it wouldn't budge,
Leave it be with its one track mind.
Think it to be the superior instrument,
Only nothingness at the end it will find.
Above all, the heart is the fickle-minded kind.
It may listen to your sweet nothings,
But it knows they're what they are, nothing.
And nothing you do can make my heart the same again,