The Breaks

"Here is my heart take what you want 'Cause I have no use for it anyway Well of all the stupid things I've ever said This could be the worst may be the best But those are the breaks These are the bruises And if I can't give myself away I'm the only one who loses And I don't want to lose this It is the sea that makes the sailor And the land that shapes the sea And I do not know yet what I am made of Or all I may someday be And it is the wood that makes a carpenter It's the very tools of his trade And it is love that makes a lover And a cross that makes a saint Here is my song listen if you will But I have no heart for it anymore I just have half a mind to cut it loose And if it sails off into the blue Then I'll just let it soar And the sky is better keeping And I won't be any poorer For giving it its freedom And here's one for freedom It is the sea that makes the sailor And the land that shapes the sea And I do not know yet what I am made of Or all I may someday be It is the wood that makes a carpenter It's the very tools of his trade And it is love that makes a lover And a cross that makes a saint Well of all the stupid things I've ever said This could be the worst may be the best But those are the breaks"