Rocko blogja

I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots 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 allways 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 didn't call.
But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close,
not even a little bit, not even at all.