I feel old, and the cold's creeping in
And my hiding makes me more aware
That I'm too scared to show

My heart's whispers are louder
Whispering quietly but incessantly
That the time to move is now

To quiet such a chatter is impossible
All that is left to do is "do"
But the heart that prattles on is a blessing

A heart that is silent is a saddened heart
Or one that is muffled with drink
I choose my big, loud, thumping heart over any silent thing