by SynthaSpide
Come, darling, dinner's ready to be served
Would you like to sit by the fire or where you actually deserve?
How do you like my tears, hot or cold?
It doesn't really matter as long as they're not old
Your riches can't bring us any luck
You knew this table can't hold the three of us
Yet you had to take your chance
And utterly destroy this beautiful romance.
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