• My chest is on fire,
    My heart's in bits,
    You say I'm the liar,
    You say I'm the dits.

    I've never been this enraged before,
    The urge has never been this strong,
    To thrust your head against my hardwood floor,
    And tell you that your wrong.

    Now my eyes well up in tears,
    My fists are clenched so tight,
    I try to avoid your hateful leer,
    And not start a fight.

    So I push you out of my way,
    Walk right out the door,
    Try not to look back and say,
    "Loving me's not a chore!"