What things, what pretty petty things, you buy!
The latest perfume, CD, dress or bag,
clenched to your bosom -- you're just like a hag
digging through trash cans with a roving eye.
Were you like this, like this when we first met?
No, that can't be. That simply cannot be.
You had finesse, a coy simplicity,
with wit and charm. A well-toned statuette.
Things fall apart. Your pureness soon did too.
It happened slowly. But I should have seen!
Your wit turned bitter. Then it became mean.
My bathroom filled with bottles of shampoo.
Hold back the tide of venom, oh my love!
Look out this window. Look and I will shove.