My dear
That feeble yelp of an insult that once would level my mind to that of pathetic grief, is but a minor mark of faded red
Compared to the cavernous scars of previous dishonours I must know horrifically well, such slight a discolour on the broken banner that carries my reputation is considered not even nil
Such is the fallen’s perspective of your shining example from the very depths to which the preceding blows that made me fell, so shade me a shadow and leave before I summon all the old rage wishes to release and mark upon you a deeper blow
Barman
Pour me some venom and let us consume the hours in Jaded words of all the misfortune a sin may fail to properly condemn, my dear one hath departed and left me to face for that one mistake the insurmountable bill
I suddenly think the words to Def Leppard’s “Pour some sugar on me” should be changed to “Pour some venom for me.”