Manner to Means

The heart is a lonely thing to lose in the dead of night The heart is a sad thing to lose in the throws of a fight The heart is the match to the fire And the embers of desire, to keep it burning I am a shell of the manner and the means Mine is a story of nothing as it seems But when we have come this far And still don't know who we are, does it keep burning? When it's over, and you see it with your eyes Would you rather have the truth or a lie? I call for angels to breathe holy on this rust I call the snakes to come and slowly from the brush I need a massive overhaul A revival to fall, to keep it burning The heart is a costly thing to sell in the prime of the years And my heart is thinly veiled in the usual fears The heart is the dream, and the kiss That there could be more than this, to keep it burning.