Am I real

And what do I feel

Hate is half a heart

Ahhh ahhh ahhh

Only I am in my arms

You were sold

To something to hold

Nothing's as rude

As the cold

Stupidly

Beautifoolish true

You

Maybe madness is a heart

Maybe heaven is a habit

If I could fly

I'd live in the sky

I come from why

And obviously you

Do too

The very start

Of everything hard

Could be the slip

Of a fingertip