The sky cries outside the window
Mimicking my reflection
I sit crying in the soft glow
Isolated by my own conviction

It hurts to hear them singing
It pains me to see them dance
I pine for it yet detest it,
The sweet perfume of romance

Because up on that happy hill
Live the happy few
Who do their happy dances
And sing their happy ballads
All because of love

And I want it
But I loathe it
It makes me seethe and cringe
O I need it!
But how I despise it
And how the fires of love do singe