I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me 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 when you make me cry.

I hate it that you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.