Advice to me: Leave well enough alone
Yet I protest: But what if it’s not well enough?
Then let it be ill
Yet I can’t keep still
And I hate to see it suffer
When my nature is a lover
Yet maybe I’m like Kevorkian
Helping it die like a scorpion
Just had to make sure it’s dead
Since it’s life hurts my head
No, I can’t stand the love
If my heart it must shove
It may still be alive
But it starves and cannot thrive
What could be done with a love like that?
Except make it road kill – so permanently flat!
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