I'm jealous of the people that see you every day,
Including those unknown to you who pass you on their way,
I'm envious of blankets that embrace you while you sleep,
And oxygen that skims your lips each second that you breathe.
The happiness I see in you provokes my wanton heart
'Cause I am not its source and I cannot take part,
But when I know you're in distress, my anger's e'er more piqued,
Because I know the tears you shed can stroke that fancied cheek.
The air that surrounds you, thick-laden with your scent,
The days when you're alone; the days when you're with friends,
Begrudgingly these I'm denied not knowing which is worse:
That you might be lonely right now or you might be with her,
Whoever this 'her' may be, it need not be a she-
Whoever gets to see you smile has robbed the joy of me.
I resent each object that, lifeless, feels your touch
For surely it is not in need of your warmth half as much,
And all of your surroundings that, heedless, catch your gaze
Have made an enemy of my envious face.
The presence of what occupies you is depravity,
For nothing merits having you any more than me.

(♬)