My cardiac is not to be sold
but people turn it to another thing
which makes it cold

I have a lot to unfold
but as time goes on I don't get
young, but old

My heart does not pay
Neither does it stay
But I know one day
It will be kept in a golden display

My heart is stiff like a rod
Hatred fills of like a flood
My blood still runs fast
But its not enough to bring it from
the mud