Why is existence so easy, and yet, life so hard?

I have an unhealthy working relationship,
With my head.
Always leaning on the wrong side of town,
And nearly always thinking,
About the wrong sort of people.
And if I could leave my head,
Alone in a secluded village,
I would.
In a village,
Where no one knows my name.
Where, perhaps, I could steal,
A simpler souls mind,
From someone kind.
But I don’t suppose,
They would have any less problems.

And if I could leave my heart,
I would.
I’d tear it from my sleeve,
And leave it on the ground,
With all the rest of the dirt.
For my heart,
‘aint no heart.
Its just a poor excuse for a pump,
Clogged up with illegitimate love.
And it always starts on the wrong beat,
And its always out of time,
With the rest of me.

But conceivably,
Only one need go?
And which do I chose?
My liar head,
Or my heart abused?

Why is existence so easy,
And yet, life so hard?