'Bout something you may know,
That curses you when you're at your lowest,
Not drinking alone, no,
It sits in your body, living quite nice,
Prob'ly just wasting time,
Eating the food that you eat for yourself,
Bragging to your blood that life is just fine,
It perks up when your stressed, rubbing its eyes,
Peaks its head out the door,
Choosing your lip as its observ'tory,
Yes, the dreaded cold sore.
I'm not sure why,
It makes me feel so gross,
Like I'm less of a person, ya, silly,
P'haps I should try to be a better host.
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