You're no good for me,
sweet like ice cream,
but just as cold.

You're only good for a week,
'cause all milk sours,
so I take you while you're good,
then I throw you out.

I can't even eat custard,
because it reminds me of you,
and my stomach starts to ache.

I should've known,
with just a taste,
that you're no good,
but I got selfish.

But never again,
you won't fool me,
I'm not that naïve.

'Cause first you're sweet,
then you're sour.