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Ira Wolf
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Fickle Heart
My heart, my heart, my fickle heart
Longs for sun and lays in the dark,
Aims for love and misses the mark,
My heart, my heart, my fickle heart.
My feet, my feet, my tired feet
Have carried my fast and far in retreat
But now I'm kicking myself to sleep
With my feet, my feet, my tired feet.
My mind, my mind, my restless mind
Is caught on the bridges I've left in flames behind
Every step overthought and analyzed
'Til I lose my mind.
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In the cold sweats underneath the sheets,
I was trembling with dreams I hate to dream
You stayed awake, clutching my face, trying to save my teeth.
Now I grind them to dust.
My bones, my bones, my aching bones
Are broken and bruised from your sticks and stones
But your words put the knife in my soul
Leaving just bones, aching bones.
And my fickle heart doesn't have a home
To rest these bones, aching bones.
Now I'm just bones, bones.
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