My only job is to make people fall in love.
I wouldn’t need a permit to carry a concealed weapon.
I’m supposed to be chubby.
I can shoot someone right in the heart, for their own good.
My cheeks and upper lip are beauty standards.
No need for an Uber when you’ve got a kick ass pair of wings.
I make hearts pop-out-of-eye-sockets in that ‘Ahooga’ way.
My blonde, ringleted bob never loses its bounce.
The work uniform is my birthday suit.
Venus, the goddess of love, is my mommy.
My archery skills would guarantee Olympic gold.
I’m synonymous with chocolate.
Honoured with a special day every year.
I’d be the best plucking harpist.
Front row seat watching people fall head over heels, then heels over head.
Sam Cook’s lyrics implore me to draw back my bow.
Pulling a cupid stunt by switching arrows, ‘cause he’s no good for you!
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