Dead on the floor of The Bar

I was dancing with Jasmine.

I went out, I saw her; So I picked her.
I picked her and she danced with me; In my hands.
She looked beautiful in the red lights.
Only she'd be withered and die after some scenting and touching.

I went out again and picked her.
I picked her and I flirted with her; In my hands.
She looked beautiful wearing those blue lights.
Only she'd be withered and die after some scenting and touching.

I went out and picked her.
Each time I'd want more and more.
Only she'd die each time in my hands, arms.
She looked beautiful being all around the place, as every part of her was almost everywhere; Even dead.

I went out to pick her; Only she extinguished, only I picked and killed every part of her.

I remember how she died for the last time and how I threw her on the floor. Probably stepped on her and dragged her here and there around the dancefloor; Dead and Unimpressed.

How ironic of me to mourn this final loss of Mine and be all depressed.
How ironic of me to even say I loved her but led her to the End of hers, being savagely suppressed and oh; Truly unblessed.