| In our day-to-day experience it has always been concealed
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| In the operating theater it now may be revealed
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| I saw the glistening human heart lying in repose
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| So tender and so vulnerable, beating and exposed
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| The human heart is a lustrous thing
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| A wondrous thing, the human heart
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| Look at the patient lying open wide
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| It cannot hide
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| The human heart
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| It has a passionate temperament, as everybody knows
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| Gushing grandiose sentiments as a toilet overflows
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| Throwing violent tantrums and prone to fits of rage
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| It can’t keep still, it rolls around in its ribcage
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| The human heart is a preposterous thing
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| A monstrous thing, the human heart
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| Enlisting sympathy with vulgar sobs
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| It pounds and throbs
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| The human heart
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| And yet it lives for love and duty at its own behest
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| A lifetime through of work to do with ne’er a moment’s rest
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| Sustaining vital organs, anointing them with blood
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| Devout in its vocation of vital organ-hood
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| The human heart is an untiring thing
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| An inspiring thing, the human heart
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| Despite the heartaches of the rolling years |
| It perseveres
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| The human heart
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| What strange abomination holds fancy over fact
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| What byzantine mutation would love what can’t love back
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| What kind of freak of nature forgives a heinous crime
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| And leads us towards as yet untraveled paths to the sublime
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| The human heart is an inscrutable thing
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| An immutable thing, the human heart
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| The human heart is an untiring thing
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| An inspiring thing
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| A preposterous thing
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| A monstrous thing
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| A lustrous thing
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| A wondrous thing
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| The human heart |