There's a house on top my heart
and this idiot of a man he dwells in it
He's got a dog, a pig, a horse
He walks around and feels too smart
But his steps are painful to me
Yet his words are even worse

He dances and he acts robust
But my heart has no crust
Does he want my blood to turn to dust?


One day I ask him " Are you well?
How is it on my heart to dwell?"
Man paused confused and couldn't tell
Like mutened by an evil spell
He's cheeks began to swell
his face bloomed red as hell
He knew not what to do
so he built a telling well
Man looked deep down the dark
Made with his fingers some strange mark
Threw in a coin of shinning gold and asked
"Please tell me am I living well?
How is it on this heart to dwell?"
The hole spoke up "You have to stab"
So the senseless man he grabbed
a knife to cut the gentle muscle
It was over with just little fuss
He stood and stood his boots in blood
He stood in it as it grew a flood
The tissue died and got rotten with puss
That was when the man dived in a fuss
His house, his dog, his horse, his pig
What should he do with them?
He couldn't fly, he couldn't dig
He ran away to where he's born
You'd say this loss he'll mourn
Man shall be gloomy of the heart he killed
Man will feel guilty for the pain and blood he spilled
That he would feel foolish not to know
how well he was living after all
But you are wrong
he moved along
Like all man do
Who cares of you?