Fiddle with your mind so brittle, must I bathe inside the doom.
Blah, blah, blah, despite my riddle, we are alone inside the womb.
All good things we see in dreams; a treasure found in a secret trove.
Let us toast to the memories and finally let each other go.
Should I wonder or blunder, I give up the thunder in my poison cup,
bubbling down the hatch 'hiccup', all good things must end.
Time to wish us both good luck; a secret trove forever friends.
Cupid with his arrow struck, a love that finally ends.