The heat is intense and it’s tearing me apart.
I can think of little but my tortured burning heart.
My torso’s on fire and it’s causing me dread.
If you don’t provide coolant, I’m afraid I’ll be dead.

It’s been a long time since we’d last been together
‘cuz no longer are we flocking birds of the same feather.
When we flew to separate corners, I think, that was the start
of the days when I went crazy with my burning yearning heart.

I can’t stand this thing that’s happening, my chest is in full groan
making noises and moans of infuriating tones.
I’m falling apart bodily, and it’s awful clear I’ve found
this kind of thing never happened when you were around.

I think the food you made for us is partially to blame
for staving off these awful feels my chest so often claims.
I can never eat right, unless I’ve been coerced.
so if you don’t came back to me I think that I’ll be forced

to suffer from this burning heart that’s leaving me near dead.
If you don’t do your part then I suspect my guts’ll shred.
I’ll be dying while I’m lying in a pool of my own sick.
So come back to me, baby, make me food I’ll finger lick.

If you prepare the dinners, then perhaps I can steel
myself for making lunches and a healthy course reveal
a life without the heartburn breaking through my every meal.
So cook for me, my darling; then my burning heart can heal.