Heart of Gold, Heart of Flesh, I've None Left.

If this were the problem,

If I were the solution,

If I could kill myself,

Make myself hate all that I am, all that I was,

For you to be with this never-met lost love of yours...

I would do it.

But I haven't the strength to tell you that it would be the end of me.

The end of the line,

But it's all the same story to you,

Messing with forces beyond your power.

Toting something around your neck that holds more might than ever expected.

Of a mere trinket, that is.

It's only been manufactured in millions of places, but how it should be,

That we both hold the same one close to our shredded hearts,

'Tis magick, it must be.

Which is why I implore you,

Not to hold so tightly, or at all, onto the dead man's heart,

For it may be the end of you.

Which would be my farewell to living, as well.