In shifting time,
You start to mime,
The raving starlets,
With stupid habits;

But worst of all,

You’ve moved on,
To a guy named John,
Cause he drives a car,
And plays a guitar.

But of course,

You smoke and drink,
Wear heels that clink,
Now that’s all cool;
It’s just that you drool;

After this dip-shit
This guy aint legit;
I can’t believe,
That you’d be this naive,

You say he’s mature,
He’s got this grandeur;
You say his eyes,
Never tell you lies,

Well I say,

He’s a peace of Shit,
Resembles a twit,
Womanizing fuck,
Just got too much luck;

And now,

I put my hate into the wall,
But did not brawl,
And with a bloodied fist,
I must untwist;

And hope,

That it ends nice,
That he doesn’t tell any lies,
He doesn’t screw,
Some hooker named Drew,

You shall see me no more,
And time shall cure,
My ice cold soul,
While you continue your stroll:

With that Asshole.

(Good luck with it all)