From sweet talking for hours
Their friendship slowly turned sour
And with each passing night
Their talks gave way to fights

Her voice was once music to him
And when she spoke, he heard la, la, la
But arguments defiled her hymn
Now all he hears is bla, bla, bla...

She had nothing but good intentions
And dreamed of a life of bliss
But he dwelled on her imperfections
All because he'd lost his peace

Spontaneous, wild and free
She was everything he was not
He stood firm, rigid as a tree
And all she dreamed came to naught!


© Raphael Uzor