I'm sick of writing about you
That's all I ever do
Every time I sit to write
Thoughts of you come through

Why can't I write about the rain?
Or a flower covered with dew
Instead it's sadness and confusion
You and you and you

I start to write of something else
I get stopped dead in my track
A feeling you once caused me
All comes rushing back

I won't give you the satisfaction
To say that you're my muse
But either way you slice it
Once again I lose

So here I am again
Writing about you
So I'll put it to an end
I'm done, that's it, I'm through

 
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