Now I'm done giving you - all you want but less.
Than what it takes to make you smile - my weakness, I confess.
I'm so sorry to smother you with compliments and gifts.
It must be such a bother to endure such painful fits.
So please return to the rest - when I'm gone, my dear.
A million await like you, the shallow ones I fear.
You, who are convinced, that all you know is right.
Could not snuff a candle in a water fight.
If that candle was a thought, the dimmest would be yours.
For your mind is far too shut, like bolted strongest doors.
I'll not bow before you - like some holy grail.
Or let your run every discourse, with your brimstone hail.
Nor give you more than you're due, respect it should be earned.
And if you open up your mind - I promise it won't burn.
You who feels so strongly, that you can do no wrong.
I'll give you just one parting gift: advise to you - in song.
To show a little kindness wouldn't make you melt.
Oh wicked witch of the west whos spell I've barely felt.
Take bat wing and cobweb - and brew yourself a potion.
Hopefully - number nine, if you've got the notion.