Heena Maka Lyrics

As if I don’t feel that heart burning
As if I don’t feel the tears falling
As if I don’t feel that sorrow scorching me
I came home.. hiding that heart like this
hiding the falling tears like this
hiding that burning sorrow like this
I came home.. erasing the dreams and hiding them
I came home… lying, mumbling, covering it up
I came home.. erasing the dreams and hiding them
I came home.. lying, mumbling, covering it up
I came home..

She thinks about me, she looks for my warmth
curled up in the bed, awake until I get in
Behind my wife’s back, leaving her alone in her world
I tricked the mind underneath, and with the mind on top I came home
Lies are piled to the ceiling, waiting to be tied off
“It’s work.” When your call comes, out of the coverage area
I’ll go missing, tired of the same taste every day
I eat outside, my moon, I’ll be late, my body on her
In your heart you don’t know what I am, I am a traitor

Lust catches fire on top of love
Where heart joins heart, if that heart goes wandering
how can love and lust ever be one thing
To me they are two, a temporary prince in a temporary heart
The other is a taste of its own, medicine drunk on the sly
Taking the pleasure I feel, stay as if you don’t know, my moon
On some day to come, when it’s time to go, slipped out of this body
it can’t be, there’ll be no regretting, not on that day
no room for my heart to ask what it was I enjoyed
At the end of life, you over there, me over here
I’m with her, drunk on wanting
I tricked the mind underneath and came home, for the other pleasure the mind on top asks for

As if I don’t feel that heart burning….
She thinks about me….

A married man walks in late and fixes his face at the door. That is where the song starts, with him coming home acting as if nothing is burning inside him, as if there are no tears, as if the guilt is not sitting right there in his chest. The phrase he keeps returning to is simple, “I came home”, and every time he says it he adds another layer of cover: the dreams erased, the lies mumbled, the story kept straight.

Then he shows you the woman waiting. She is curled up in bed, keeping herself awake until he gets in, reaching for his warmth, and he watches her do it knowing exactly where he has been. He does not argue with himself about it. He says the word plainly, he is the one betraying her. The excuses are the small ordinary ones any Sri Lankan will recognise instantly: it was work, official duty, and when her call comes his phone is out of the coverage area, the recorded message that swallows the hours he cannot explain. Bored of the same food at home, he eats outside. The cruel part is that he calls her “my moon” in the same breath, the tender word a husband uses, spent on her at the exact moment he is confessing.

The middle of the song is an argument between the mind underneath and the mind on top, and that is the line that carries the whole thing. The deeper self knows better and gets tricked; the surface self wants what it wants and gets obeyed. He never dresses the other woman up as love. He asks how love and desire could be the same thing and answers his own question, they are two separate things for him, and with her he is only a passing prince in a passing heart. The other pleasure is medicine sipped in secret, something swallowed when nobody is looking, useful and shameful in the same swallow.

The last verse jumps forward to dying. One day he will slip out of this body, and by then it will be too late to feel sorry, too late for his heart to even ask what all of it was worth. At the end, he says, you are over there and I am over here. No apology arrives, no promise to stop. The song circles back to where it began, with him tricking the part of himself that knows, and coming home. What stays with you is not the affair but the woman still lying awake, waiting for a man who erased their dreams before he opened the door.