My heart is a violin
With strings played to the breaking,
And wound so tight I have no breath
Since the hour of waking.
Still sings my soul, though grown thin
So lost among a score,
And yearning for familiar rest
I failed to love before.
My heart is a violin
With strings played to the breaking,
And wound so tight I have no breath
Since the hour of waking.
Still sings my soul, though grown thin
So lost among a score,
And yearning for familiar rest
I failed to love before.
