Of the Night

You tell me I'm quiet I'm shy I'm easy and friendly
Yet you tell me to leave almost delightedly
You tell me its a turn off a downer a sin
Yet you tell me there is a deeper sense within
You tell me all your lies and deep loathings
Yet you tell me its someone else that you're doting

Its too bad how I listen to you
All you have is an act that I can see through
You tell me I'm all these wonderful things
And yet somehow I wish that I had wings
To fly away from your cursed mouth
And just go somewhere away perhaps south

I think you're hopeless and idiot and rude
I know that I'm a romantic prude
Its what you dont say to my face that hurts the most
Its as if I have to endure punishment at the whipping post
I'm done with you and thats a fact
My thoughts are not mellow actually they are quite exact

At first you were polite bringing flowers and wine
Even then you didn't resemble what you are... swine!
You are a weed in my garden of roses
I cannot sit here, because of you it all decomposes
You are foul and bile and I certainly no longer approve
Therefore from please yourself from my doorstep, remove