It's been three weeks
Since you ripped my heart
Straight out of my chest
Yet you're walking the streets
With her on your arm -
Your new marvelous quest
While I do not consider
Myself to be picturesque,
Lovely, or striking
I am daintier
And not impressed
With your exquisite timing
She holds a pulse,
That is the truth
A sad one, at that
But she's merely an impulse
A spur of your youth
Which you will soon regret
Yes, for you, WY
Have fun with her.