"My Foolish Heart," it's a good song,
Really, I guess, it says it all --
In our hearts, we want to believe in miracles,
In a benevolent force of inevitability, we invest our lives,
Unbenownest to us children, things fall apart:
Nothing lasts forever, no matter how much you try.

Be good, be bad, holy or unholy,
The sins, the virtues, the forces of nature,
What we really want is a return to the womb:
Warm and alone, fed and ungrown,
Come on, Mom, take me home,
Take me the fuck home!

The choice has been made: no reward,
Nor any need to repay,
No "Days of Wine and Roses,"
It all blows through, blows up, blows apart reality --
Stop crying, stop crying,
It won't make a difference.

Be kind, be mean, be how you choose --
Nobody cares, nobody stops to smile,
Nobody will shake your hand and hand you your just dessert --
Just death.

It's a song I wrote, long ago,
It's a song I promote, again and again,
It's just never very fun, you know,
To have it sung to yourself.

With no childhood to recall,
You build walls against walls --
Years and years, defense and anguish,
Everything gets torn down, always,
By another, someone seemingly better:
Let me warn you, here,
That it's all a facade.

They lie, they cheat,
They take you for all your worth,
Only to leave you high and dry,
Surprised to be so bled.

It's a process of humiliation,
It's a process of degradation,
It's an education, emancipation,
In anticipation, we wait to be freed --
We wait, and wait, and wait.

Twist and turn, torn and worn,
Warped and frayed, forgotten and amazed,
Ablaze and afraid, agape and unmade,
Unwound, undone, undressed --
Did you forget all that defense?
Did you forget that good intent is missed?
Did you find that the world is a lie?
Did you find that the world is unkind?
Did you forget what you learned, as a boy?
Did you forget that nobody changes, given time?
Did you find yourself scarred, again?
Did you find yourself scared of death?
Did you find rage?
Did you find hate?
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes . . .
Yes, yes, yes . . .

I am a man standing in stone,
Unmoved and cold, so wrong,
I am a vision in stone.

I am a man standing in water,
Unsettled and cold, so wrong,
I am an oasis in a desert.

I am a man lost on the winds,
Unquieted and cold, so wrong,
I am a shape in the clouds.

I am a man aflame in outrage,
Unquenched, wrenched from within,
Blistered and fevered, wasted --
You don't want to taste the heat,
You don't want to know me.

It's a song I wrote, long ago,
I wrote my end, I wrote the end,
I wrote our parts, I wrote the cues,
I wrote the direction, the inflections,
The choreographied dance of the damned.

I wrote in anger, I wrote in tears,
I wrote while shaking, I wrote while praying,
I wrote so rapidly, I wrote so vapidly,
I wrote it all, I wrote it all:
I wrote my end, my friend,
Like it or not, it's in red on black,
Chiseled in tablature,
Christened in glassware,
Made to raise questions,
Made to lay down graveyards.

They'll hurt you, my son,
Don't go out there, my son,
They'll break you, my son,
They'll do to you what I have felt,
My son, my son, my son . . .

There is no right,
There is no wrong,
There is nothing to be seen,
No truth, no saving --
Stop crying, stop crying,
It won't save you, I swear.

No one cares,
No one shares,
No one bears your burden for you,
No one grieves your heartache for you,
No one smiles and waves a good day to you,
No one acknowledges your good deeds to you,
No one knows exactly what it is you know,
And worst of all, no one knows,
No one knows how to know to know.

I will not go out,
One foot to the floor,
One breath to explode,
I will not go out.

Love me, love me:
Calls the foolish heart --
The folly of mankind --
It will go unanswered,
Unsponsored, unlanguished,
My foolish heart; I hate,
My foolish heart.