You tell me you're no beauty queen.
You say I must be blind.
You wish some things could go unseen
And hope that I don't mind.
But you know what you do to me.
If not, you should, my dear!
I'm wanting you - that's plain to see -
Though why you're still not clear.
You won't believe you are the cause...
As if you ever could!
You speak to me about your flaws,
While I'm here getting wood!
