You've got a bad reputation,
and you're proving it, oh, so well
so I can laugh at your temptation,
and send it back to hell.
You've got a strange way of talking.
You choose to say all the wrong words.
You're facts are blatantly forgotten,
you've got nerve.
But, who am I to be so picky, love?
You weren't even the one that I was thinking of
and I know this is the wrong time.
Just know that, when I talk to you,
all I ever really want to do
is to let you know that it's not fine.
And it will never be fine.
It's fucking rude to be so aloof.
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