I pour my heart, soul and bare flesh into most things.
I never learn do I.
My glass is almost empty.
There’s but little for anyone else who wants to drink again.
Just when I fear they’ve drank it all I realise there is still plenty left.
My heart, my soul and my bare flesh.
God knows he never had so much to drink of me.
My heart perhaps Iv given him.
My soul perhaps I owe to him.
My bare flesh belongs to someone else not me even to me.
I fear I might not have any left after all this giving.
I cannot replace much of what’s given with what someone’s given to me to drink.
I give to much, and one day I will have nothing left anymore.