Fickle Heart - Ira Wolf

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

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