The Best of Billy: a compilation.

the boy i hated to love (from paradise).

i knew when i saw him
i hated him
i would look in his eyes and see
the despise
the lies
the scarred wounds of the many guys
that had buried him before me

and when i looked at him
and i felt sorry for what he had done
what he had become
sour; he was the definition
of the lonely hour

though i hated the boy
he gave me joy
i guess as the winter fell into summer
i saw his grey turn to colour

and i finally could see
i had begun to love me