2.Death To The Heartless
A trauma to the head like the most spirited drink.
It is the ethanol of absinthe, it is how you think.
It sifts through emotion like blood from a wound.
Love is indeed its own hallucinogenic;
Affecting the mind, heart and mood.
A she loves me, he loves me not; Psychotropic.
The flamboyant aspersion of red, so fibre optic.
Or is it sometimes an anxious black cat clawing at confidence？
Possessive some become for worry of appearance.
The jealousy over burdens into disloyalty and doom.
For without trust this infected thorny rose is never to bloom.
There are those clandestine con artists seeking only a bed,
A night of casual affairs with no intent to prosper.
They utter the lies that spin a dizzy head,
The libertine without restrain, the insurance collector;
He is but a dissolute philanderer and she a big spender.
To the grave with loves vapour：-
And the foul scented path you were once led.
Rapturous thoughts will spread through as their buried together,
Death to the heartless, the best thing since sliced bread.
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