They say make love, not war
But there’s always a constant battle
With my heart
I’m always fighting for another
And with every battle
I grow weaker
Losing soldiers, losing power
And battle after battle,
I lay wounded;
With bloody gashes,
Bursting from my lungs.
I stand on two wobbly feet again
Looking in the eye of the enemy
We shake hands
With gentle smiles
And they knock me off my feet again.
My heart is a fool for believing
That it could ever be loved
Or that it could ever love in return.
It is a curse
That the love gods have put upon us
That there will always be love in war
And war in love.