If our paths should ever cross again, dear
I hope my eyes betray it all
so that my lips don't catch fire
with the hell I'd like to spit at you.
But I'm a lady, sir.
So I'll give you one glance-
colder than any dead eye's stare
Then I'll turn away, tall with pride
To find the path where you won't tread
Where words are truth
and gestures kind
And there I'll dance.