Under the moonlight
In the middle of the cold night
You will hear an elegy
The coldest, saddest story

Of how his heart was stole
Of how he lost his soul
To a maiden so heartless
Yes, a maiden so heartless

Many said, it wasn't stole
Instead he sold his soul
For a priceless illusion
To be with the girl of his ambition

So the story goes
The sinister he calls
To bargain something worthy
For a heart that costs no penny

He sold all of him
To get all of her
But the wicked will win
And the fool will suffer

Buying her heart doesn’t mean
Getting her love and affection too
Giving all of you doesn’t mean
Getting the same of what you do

So every night you’ll hear
Like a wolf wailing to the moon
Who can’t get hold of his dear
A man murmuring a mournful rune

I have given
myself for free
warm and unblanching
like heartbeats
or sunlight
far too long
and found myself
dirt poor

so…

I am practicing
being mysterious
cool and uncrackable
like alabaster
or diamonds
or anything else
precious
no one can touch
without paying