Sometimes I want us to be together,You an axe and I a woodchip.Sometimes take aim, sometimes cut me,For this poor heart has grown so tired.
If you do not love me, strike me dead,Do not leave me to suffer like this,Longing for you is wasting me away,Only you can quench my fire.
I will drag myself all the way to you,For this poor soul has grown so tired,Like a cross I will rest upon your breast,I can bear this loneliness no more.
Do not let me fall asleep,Without hearing your voice,If you do not come, I will come myself,So we stay like flesh and nail.
