Barnaby hands me my daily
&nbsp;&nbsp;cup of coffee, but this time, it's night
&nbsp;&nbsp;time, and the coffee reminds me of the war
&nbsp;&nbsp;but not the allies annihilating the Germans or Japanese
&nbsp;&nbsp;but the war between me and him every time
&nbsp;&nbsp;he confesses his love to me, the words pierce
&nbsp;&nbsp;through my heart
&nbsp;&nbsp;I will never love him as much as he loves
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;me, I'm disgusting
&nbsp;&nbsp;like the taste of the coffee
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;just beans in water.