When they speak of her,
They speak like a disease has entered the room
she's Midas without gold
But sheds inevitable gloom

she sets traps where she finds joy
In watching her prey suffer the sharp and painful snare
She's got love for her children
But holds hate within her stare
She's angry and jealous
And is only happy if you feel that way too

And yet I still wonder why you loved her the way I love you