I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair;
I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots,
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick;
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right,
I hate it when you lie,
I hate it when you make me laugh;
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it that you’re not around,
And the fact that you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you;
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

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