Clonging
I wish that there were two of you:
One to love and One to hate.
For then I could still loathe you
And adore you just the same.
And I could still be mad for you
And mad at you as well;
There would be one of you for each
'nd no need to go insane.
'Cause let me tell you, dearest love,
You're much too short, in truth,
Of space and man enough to hold
The way I feel for you.