Verse One
Lay down beside you,
On the dark side of the moon
So we're not blinded by the Sun,
Lean into you,
Deafened by the sirens
We could be lovers on the run,
Don't let go of you,
The world is caving
And there is nowhere we can go,
Don't turn away from you,
Dance upon the wire
We like to lose control

Chorus
Foolish hearts are easy to break,
Watch it crumble and circle the drain,
You ran away before I was able,
To look at the cards you threw to the table,
Left my heart be 'cause it was unstable,
Foolish hearts are hard to maintain,
You let me trust you again

Verse Two
You told me,
That we are made of steel
But we fell apart like paper,
You touched me,
Fingertips were warm
But emotions turned to vapour,
You cheated me,
Said I was invincible
But crumbled under pressure,
You never saw me,
A shipwreck of a man beneath
Skin that's made of leather

Chorus
Foolish hearts are easy to break,
Watch it crumble and circle the drain,
You ran away before I was able,
To look at the cards you threw to the table,
Left my heart be 'cause it was unstable,
Foolish hearts are hard to maintain,
You let me trust you again

Bridge
You twisted my words and I lost the battle,
Hiding the key and left me in shackles,
My foolish heart caved 'cause it was too much to handle,
You crushed in your hands,
Gone down the drain with the rest of our plans

Chorus**
Foolish hearts are easy to break,
Watch it crumble and circle the drain,
You ran away before I was able,
To look at the cards you threw to the table,
Left my heart be 'cause it was unstable,
Foolish hearts are hard to maintain,
You let me trust you again

Eating mushrooms, to her is yet another art
she loves to perfect, in my ear she whispers
with such visible pleasure,"I want to be a connoisseur in this"
Her studio smelled herbs and wild flowers of inner forest,
brought me back to the cardamom and cinnamon garden
I played in my days of boyhood; spices build a  bridge for us.

More of a herbalist than a paint smelling artist, she seems,
mounted on the wall on irregular fashion were the mushrooms
she painted with a passion rare, and a precision mirroring life;
the paintings  brought her past in to the studio, only trained eyes
would discern the cryptic symbolism, a consummate artist she certainly is!

 The woman who smoked cigars in succession and untiringly danced,
she said was her favorite, along the lake front we took a long walk
comparing notes;  there were parallels that met, we found soon enough.
"You too knew her so well, I am aware", she said. A room filled with smoke
where we dance, make love, grow tired, fall down and sleep, wasn't it our life?
No one can miss the signature smell of her dense cigar smoke on my dress!"

I loved the smell of cloves she exhaled while eating mushrooms.
though detachment she pretended, eating mushrooms never was that!
I kept looking down at her eyes, a sailor about to sight the land,
any panting moment that rushes with a monsoon song for me and her.