I love you, truly. That is that.
I'd kill for you, I'd eat a bat!
You are my morning and my dusk
Without you I'm a hollow husk.
Hold! wipe away your joyful tear
As I must make on thing quite clear
I'm sure you have your hopes set high
That, dear, for you I'd eas`ly die
I fear to break your sweet, sweet heart
I'll prick it, slightly. With a dart
Reality is this right here:
Death is, well, my BIGGEST fear.
What lies across the great beyond
`s a thought of which I am not fond
Thus begs the thought, "Why would I leap
for one fair girl, it's much too steep!"
Call me yellow, call me Macbeth
But in MY play there'll be no death!
If grief tells you to take your life
You'll be alone `n your noble strife
My shadow won't be close behind
Do NOT expect to make a find
Fair Juliet, do not be sad
Your Romeo, alas, is bad.