In your lies lies a home,

a home for defeated soldiers,

and lost and wounded hearts.

You bring forth your lies,

all your beautiful, pretty lies.

Ones which tells of a promised land,

to migratory birds and famished animals.

My heart is famished too, 

but you never lied to me.

You never let me join the marches,

of lovers and poets and jesters.

You never let me join the rendezvous 

of fragile souls and sad circus clowns.

You never gave me a chance,

to get to know how you smelled,

on a cold and dark winter morning.

You never held my heart over a subway,

with a rushing train breaking barriers.

All I ever wished to burn on the fireplace,

were the worlds in which you were not in.

I wish to keep it all, all your strangeness,

all the worlds where you break my heart.