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 it, 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 when 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
