by Charlotte Breems

Created on: February 01, 2009

"An Old Take on a New Conversation with an Old Boyfriend"
She just sashays in blue eyes glowing, blond hair waving. Hips and lips all in line.
I HATE that you stare at her, HATE how you glare at her! She doesn't even care that your mine.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to be her, don't want to see her, don't want her to think she'll be missed.
Cause she'll slip in with those jeans, and you know what I mean, when we'll all discover her butt crack exist!
Its the drop of your mouth, that will ignite my pout, and direct my finger of blame.
Cause you'll come home tonight, rub me down right, and in your head be screaming her name.
YES! its your fault that you stare, at her face at her hair, at her butt, at her thighs, at her lips.
Now I've had to say this again, and a fight will begin, and you'll wonder why i even GOT PISSED.

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