I can't be a wooden man.  As you pull on my strings.
I know your devious plan.  That **** hurts me and stings.

I see your wandering eyes. When we walk down the street.
I'm tired of your obvious lies. As I lay between hardened sheets.

The late night phone calls.  Where you whisper in the dark.
The sudden visits to the mall. When he climbs in and lights a spark.

Now there's a bump in the front.  And you're trying to say its me.
But I've gotta be really blunt.  You never did make me squee.