She's got so many faces
And they're always trading places
Don't know what ideas to pitch
Scared she'll start to bitch
I don't know what's wrong with her
Maybe she's bipolar?
I love this woman dearly
But her face is always searing
She's getting bad these days
And there's nothing left to praise.
She sits in the corner, 'hoping', 'dreaming',
Really I think she's 'plotting', 'scheming'.
I'm scared she'll pull a heist
I'm scared she'll leave at night
She now keeps rocks in her purse
I think she's getting worse.
Something's wrong in her universe
For her face is always terse
I got her to a counselor
But she never got bouncier
And I'm starting to believe
That the problem is me.