Cupid, Drunken Archer

One shot

Two shots

Three shots down

One heart lost

to the cruel fates

Four shots

Five shots

Six shots sound

Another heart won 

by love's embrace

Arrows fly high

Pinning soul to soul

Liquor runs low

Patching up the holes.

It is said that love is true

So why does it matter where the arrow flies to? 

Seven shots, eight shots

An old taboo ignored

Nine shots, ten shots

Black and white isn't so black and white anymore

Teary eyes, blurry sight, my heart aches

To give love or forget love, which shot do I take?