I don’t like it though you may like it because you have done it before. But I still don’t like it and I won’t do it and there’s nothing you can do no more.
Sink my shoes into mud, burn my pinky with boiling water, and do everything, stuff you’ll forget. I fear my old grade school teacher, fear that lay-off, (No wonder!) but most of all, I fear regret.
And I’m tired of rhymes
When I don’t feel fine
And I feel you’re not mine,
Same crazy lines over and over again.
I don’t like it but it’s there and it’s happened before, so I’ll just work to death on my chair.
There’s no purpose to beauty, when this thing’s clearly dirty, as dirty as filthy things in the shadows. Light won’t touch it and I won’t hear it. Doesn’t matter ’cause people don’t give a sh*t.
But I’m tired of ryhmes!
This pocketful of dimes!
Same futile lines over and over again.
This painful demon won’t die, so just give it a try. Hire a cold-blooded assassin or do it yourself.
Come on, let’s not kid, or heaven forbid, my frail, sickly mind may be changed. And then when that happens, one tiny push from you darling, believe me, I will be deranged.
Stop me now darling,
So we can go fleeing, and flying, and fluctuating, and flirting.
Do it now! Do it now!
Cause if you do it now
I would bow out of the stage,
Offer myself freely to old age,
And be a hermit somewhere or a sage.
You know I can’t do it because I’ll never like it, though all the world’s done it before. But the fact doesn’t change, like my heart and my range, so I won’t ever do it
Never now, never then, never hither nor yonder, never the day after, never as tears fall the night before.