It’s no end, nor a start
where I am and you aren’t.
It’s not fair that my heart
lives so far, far apart

from its home here inside
where it beats and it thrives,
but it’s still so alive
with you there by its side.

So I wish I could say,
to the heart that I gave,
sit up straight and behave,
but it’s lost its poor way.

Now it cries in your palm,
though it’s safe and it’s warm
and the storm will soon calm,
but these days are so long.