My blood boils every time I hear her name.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…

She’s a bunch of trouble.

My heart races like a stampede of wild horses.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…

She’s a bunch of trouble.

She acts like she knows me,

Knows what’s in my head

And heart.

She draws me in like a fish,

And then stabs me in the back

Where it hurts the most.

Things will never be the same.

Perhaps it is better that way.

I’d rather lose her as a friend

And know my back was safe…

Than have a bunch of lies.