I've come to the conclusion that love is just an illusion

It's a work of art to your heart

A tragedy to your sense of mind

It's a burning desire in which you admire,

In the end of this game your prize is a heartache

The illusion is your heart tricks your mind into thinking love is real, but it's fake

When that burning desire goes out you're left with ash that reminds you of the past.

He's the thing no matter how much you lose you'll always play the game.