don´t explain

Ouvindo Delicate, Damien Rice

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 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.

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