The heart, a cup of muscle,
Is filled with liquid pure and bright.
This vessel tips to pour and fill
Another soul with crimson light.
But if the heart stays upright,
And never leaks a single drop,
The treasure will grow stagnant.
The streaming source will slow and stop.
So rip, O heart, become a tunnel,
And let the floodgates from above
Burst and break on through your muscle.
Become the waterfall of love.