If you're the blanket then I'm the stitches, If you're the needle then I'm the mittens, If you're the water then I'm the kettle And if you're the rash then I'm the nettle.
If I'm the icing on the cake Then you're the blow, the burn, the break. If I'm the claws of a neighbour's cat Then you're the nose of each dead rat. If I'm the clock on the microwave Then you're the cancer and the grave And if I'm a schemer's dossier Then you're the board on which he plays.
If you're the hair pulled at hysterically Then I'm the teacher steeped in austerity. If you're the cuff that's come unrolled Then I'm the base camp unpatrolled. If you're the tea leaves left behind Then I'm the fortune undivined And if you're the reason I'm capricious Then I'm the reason you're pernicious.
If I'm the strap, love, you're the sandal, And if I'm the drugs then you're the scandal. If you're goodbye, love, I'm the foyer, And if I am "je" then you're "tutoyer".
Well, I am getting over you which is good, but not the point. The thing is, I never wanted to but I didn't have much of a choice. I guess I could hate you for leaving me to deal with unfinished business …and I do. I really, really do.