My heart is lying quietly in the shade.
Pass quickly by and do not stop to stare.
As broken hearts are seldom on parade
It could be that you will see nothing there.

This heart once with a violent passion burned,
Its alchemy fuelled with a flame so bright,
That everything into pure gold was turned,
Consuming every other feeling quite.

But then the air it breathed was drawn away,
And weak flames were unable to revive
This blackened core that charred and smouldering lay.
And my poor heart gave up the will to live.

If your sweet breathe could kindle but a spark
My heart’s new night would still prefer the dark.