To the Lady I've yet to know

I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you dye your hair.
I hate the way you ride with me.
I hate it when you stare.

I hate your crowned high heel shoes
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick.
It even makes me rhyme

I hate it...
I hate the way you're always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh;
Even worse when you make me cry.


I hate it when you're not around
And the fact that you've never call,
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you;
Not even close;
Not even a little bit;
Not even at all.

ja
rock and soul. can they ever meet?