Can (Can’t) Not

I can’t love you
Even if I could.
You’re not my type
So why am I drawn
To you so?

You hate me too
You know I’d leave if I could
But it’s my turn to gripe
About times long gone
You got me—K.O.

You’ve set my trail askew
You’re on fire; I’m made of wood
I go to church; you smoke the pipe
You seam so withdrawn
Yet you set the fire aglow