There is a wounded heart, full of false ideas,
Love always hurts, deception is never missing,
The newly grown flower withers when it clears,
There is a complaining heart! You were never one to water it,
Even for it to grow it needs more than water,
Or maybe you don't see the weeds that cover it,
Plant again, this time take care of it and heal it,
That with a broken heart it is more difficult to cultivate it,
And tell her when she's grown up that she's what you love most.