Head Against Heart

It's not my fault that I like to run. 

Well, I guess it is, since the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Just like my heart didn't fall far from my chest.

So I grabbed it and put it back,

Before anybody could see me bleed. 

You see, mister, I never tried to be the thing I am. 

But the man in my head tells me what to be.

I confess, I am a mercenary, an iconoclast. 

Whatever I may be, it is fire in my legs,

and ice in my arms. 

The rest of me? 

It's a war,

Head against heart. 

But there will be no winner. 

For I am headlong, and heart-strong.