I'm like a genie in a lamp;
I cannot read your mind.
You've got to tell me what you want--
precisely, not just maybe.
Everytime you said or seemed
to not want this to work,
I willingly backed away
and stayed away 'til you said okay.
So don't even say it's my fault.
The blame goes all to you.
I let go, but you hold on
and offer it back again.
And staying true to who I am,
I try to please you and take it back.
But then you yell and scream and cry
and place the blame on me.
So I let go again.
If you hold on this time, good for you.
You'll be the only one.
Next time you offer me your hand,
you'll find a fist instead.
I swear if you so much as look my way,
you'll meet all of his friends.
And maybe I'll call his brother;
he's still under eighteen.
But don't you worry; it's all okay.
Your wish is my command.