Am I a disease? Trouble worthless of being pleased? I charm and I make smile, but it seems I'm always on trial Found guilty of not having it. Whatever it is I don't get! They don't tell me what I've done wrong. It all turns into the same painful song. Awww, that's sweet and your nice, but I need you out of my life. I have no interest in you, even though you give your heart true I see the evil and the soulless suck out the good's will and wholeness. I listen to you whine about the horror, yet you run back time and again for more But here I am a kind, sweet, thoughful, gentleman. By no means am I near small, nor do I have money to buy the Taj Mahal, but I will fight to my last day in the hopes I win the one whose breath I take away.