And she said 'Losing love is like a window in your heart,
Everybody sees you're blown apart,
Everybody feels the wind blow.'
The thought that life could be better is woven indelibly into our hearts and our brains.
Maybe the heart is part of the mist.
And that's all that there is or could ever exist.
Maybe and maybe and maybe some more.
Maybe's the exit that I'm looking for.
Medicine is magical and magical is art, the boy in the bubble, and the baby with the baboon heart.
I want to rid my heart of envy, and cleanse my soul of rage before I'm through.
I try to open up my heart as much as I can and keep a real keen eye out that I don't get sentimental. I think we're all afraid to reveal our hearts. It's not at all in fashion.
Losing love is like a window in your heart.
Take two bodies and you twirl them into one, their hearts and their bones, and they won't come undone.
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