She’s been poisoning my heart,
She’ll be my Cirrhosis in the end,
And my Antabuse to start.
Like a serving, stiff, of whiskey,
she likes me ’cause I’m strong
but like her servings, stiff, of whiskey
she will miss me when I’m gone.
Running tabs and running out,
excuses so insidious;
When it’s time to pay it back
She will see that she’s an idiot.
Now without a liver,
and without another heart,
she must find another donor,
from the bottom of the chart.