Thinking, looking at her hurts
Like a stake to the heart
The piercing sensation never leaves
You lost her on a thursday
Now every thursday hurts
Cupid used you for target practice
And the cupid in the city
Is a terrible shot
You hated writing
Every words makes no sense for you
But you love writing for her anyway
You stinkin masochist
But you have to realize
That in the seven billion people and growing
Departing of one would not be the end of it
I'm not saying she's worth less
I'm saying you're worth more
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