You were my chemical creation,
my bio-hazard love,
you were my toxic romance.
We stripped away the pretenses,
and now we're over open flame,
this love is only ashes;
the roses are to blame.
Our love was never a joke,
but we were always laughing.
Screw this, let's be serious,
because now the poppies litter the ground
like bloody gunshot wounds.
The glass is shattered,
what's lost can never be returned.
Even after all the flowers you sent me,
with the love notes
bleeding other girl's perfume,
I never really learned.
And the scientists can't fix me,
because I never really realized
until you called me by her name
that you were leading a double life.
And now it's time to end that game.
So here's a gift you're not likely to forget,
because surprise surprise,
there's a bullet underneath her wedding gown.
