If you want to hurt me, then please, take my heart first. Then I won't feel the cold so much. The pain so much. With my heart gone, there's no reason for me to stay. My eyes can look on death and not tremble. It's the heart that betrays us; makes us weep, makes us bury our friends when we should be marching ahead. It’s the heart that sickens us at night and makes us hate who we are. It’s the heart that sings songs and brings memories of warm days and makes us waver at another mile, another smouldering village. So for goodness's sake, take the heart first.
