The time is late evening nine,
I think I want something of mine.
So I pick up your line,
Just like the pine.
It contains meanness,
You come up with rudeness.
I enjoy with shrewdness,
Still I read with selflessness.
You want me to confess,
Despite all the distress.
I try to find a way and egress,
Yet again you try to suppress.
After all this I continue to shine,
I think I'm absolutely fine.
I decide with you to wine,
Also decide with you to dine.
