Jealousy Woes

I'm the fool that stole the precious jewel,    
it's brought me not but trouble.    
   
She's got a sandstorm stride and a wallop like the high-tide.    
   
There's a picture of love on the back of her hand    
to remind her of what she's supposed to be feeling.    
   
She cries green tears when she dwells on her fears    
and they've sodden her quilt-cover gown.    
   
A shattered vase against the wall,  
your lone defence is soon to fall.    
   
The lover's tribe has many spies    
and you're the one that has to die.    
   
Stare down the barrel of this gun    
and all you ever had will be undone.