My face is made of stone
It never really changes
Some scratches here and there
But mostly it holds true
It's natural form seems to unsettle
People are always asking
If I'm heartbroken

I never really think too much
About things I think are sad
They just seep through the cracks
In my head and take over
I guess I am heartbroken
But I've never trusted a woman
Enough for her wrap her love
Around my heart too tight

I always like to breathe
I guess you could call me a fan
Oxygen is life
But then again
What is life?
What is my life?
How is it significant?
Is it the love of others
That makes a life worth living?