I'll tell a tale of a heart that wants
a place to sit and rest
where it can relax from a brain's taunts
slow its beating in a chest
that's locked up tight buried in the sands
of a beach the picture of paradise
people dig for it with trembling hands
can't obtain the chest though they paid the price
of searching for a treasured heart
that wishes diggers will take a break
A heart beats though it wants to depart
how much more hate can it take?

Higher functions demand a heart to beat
it continues to hurt beneath diggers' feet.