The flowers you gave me turned to darts. So I took them in hand and proceeded to throw them at all your other lovers' hearts. Hit them I did, directly in the center. Steady bullseye. But they didn't die. Those wounded hearts turned to a pack of wolves and chased you into the nearest wood. It's there they devoured every last part of you -- your could, would, and should. Eaten up by your own pretty lies. A fitting way to say our final goodbyes. Fallacy was a refreshing pool you employed to hoodwink. And so we'll gladly spread your ashes over this drink.