The sign was there
That love had slipped me by
And you bowed in a strange sort of way
It was like I should cry

But not of want and hatred
I refused to be smitten by your trap
As you thought I might
I stood so bloody proud and took the wrap

Oh is not life a wonderful thing
When one takes charge of oneself
Despite your beauty and your selfishness
Tis you who sits upon that shelf