Heathen

The holy heathen who’s made a whore of
a saint.
Everything I should’ve been, was always too late.

One did love me once but the rest still curse knowing.
To me it was all the same where I came
in the end.

I bankrupt my morality, all my apologies
I had to sell.
So I give rain checks with a high five
and a smile.

A charming dirtbag, this bad man’s life
of foolish fate.
It’s better to leave me be, cause what I am is who you’ll hate.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s