He is late, as usual
It's his car, he decides
when we go home
At least, if he does come

And after the party he will say: 'Come
it was a nice evening, wasn't it?'
but if he absolutely needs to
I'll let him, I'll let him

come until he screams
for mercy - nobody can hear it
The wind will blow, the grass will wave
and I will turn around to sleep

I love him, I know why
and he should be able to do better
I am worth it, and he too
If I only could teach him