I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big damb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it's make 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 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 I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.