Marius: En indøk'ers utsikt fra verden

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 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 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.