I hate to think she's with you
I despise this dreadful pair
I wish I didn't envy her, I wish I didn't care
But I have to admit that even though we're friends
I hope God intends for this relationship to end.
I dread the day I see you
Kissing, cuddling, close,
I would that I will act merry, as opposed to morose.
I haven't seen her in an age, I'll want to chat
But you'll be there, you spoiled brat. And that will be that.
And whenever it's over
You had better not be
Meekly and apologetically coming back to me
With your feet dragging guiltily upon the ground.
I won't be your rebound the second time around.
