This is despicable, the sick things that people are capable of,
hearts can get shot, minds can rot, yet people think within that is love.
No, I disagree, I will always flee, when someone's talkin' untruthly,
because in reality, it's just disaster waiting to happen, I'm slappin',
the pure thought of some hottie, runnin' up on me, sayin' "I want ya,"
I'm setting myself up for heartache, for heart break, for heart's sake.
Why does this happen to me? All I want to do is find someone of specialty,
I've went through a whole line of them, looked behind me and 'round the bend,
nothing, I come up empty everytime, saying "I want no relationship this time"
when in prior times they said yes to someone else, all I have to say is "fine."
I don't blame them, I expect nothing from anyone, my heart is full of grime.
The blood was replaced long ago, and nobody knows, I'm dieing inside.
I seem so excited for life on the outside, but deep down I hide, a feeling of non-pride,
I grant you this, I never lied, I just spied, straight into your heart, and you let me slide.
And all this time I've tried, to convince you, I know you're petrified.
It's okay though, please don't apologize, never force up into me any lies,
because if that happens, do you realize? Of how fast my heart flies,
under certain conditions, it acts as a bullet, but you never know, unless you pull it.
It could speed through the sky like a demon, or turtle around, slowly creepin'.
Despicable is the thought, of a loveless eternity.
Despicable is the thought, of troublelessy disturbing me.
It's all right, I can handle it, straightly, all on my own.
I won't fight, I'll dismantle it, shakingly, I'll turn the hurt around.
Yeah, I admit it, I'm hurt and I hate it, but please don't feel you're forced to change it,
I know it seems I rearranged it, but I don't want you to do something you don't want to do,
but when I look at you, I see the cool, wavy waters and I feel like a fool.
You know how I feel, and I always come on stronger,
I don't know if it will last much longer, I just want to take a dive in those majestic waters.
Oh how despicable is this wretched feeling that died in my heart?
However when you shattered that mold, the sickness fell apart.
Hope some day I can have you, just wishful thinking I suppose.
Despicable is the thought, of these pointless feelings in prose.