When you speak ill of me
do you know what I see?
Division in this group of three
separation is what I see.

When you speak ill of me
do you know what I see?
A person filled with such beauty
is now as ugly as can be.

When you speak ill of me
do you know what I see?
Poison plaguing once such glee
killing all that's wild and free.

When you speak ill of me
do you know what I see?
A screaming, wreched, fey banchee
who thinks too much she is Queen Bee.

So when you speak ill of me,
it puzzles me that you can't see
how beautiful that you could be
IF YOU'D SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

... We both agree.