You try to seem so repentant
yet all you achieve is to be decadent
a rose by any other name still has its thorns
just like the halo, is held up by the horns.
I'm getting so sick of the way you are
my emotions have scabbed over, begun to scar
you keep pick-pick-picking the wounds you made
unearthing the grave in which my heart was laid
Your false pretense of remorseful repentance
so cliche but consistently displaying inconsistence
You run away, you run away from us and me
You run away, from the past, present, and future to be
You've proven to me what it is that you are
you've shown the lengths of yours that fail to go far
Misconstrued and misunderstood hearsay is your bible
hidden under the sheets of your new found brothel
Failed, failed again to follow all the way through
fact is hard to swallow when you shun what is true
Well you dug your own grave with my heart under your chest
in the end you'll lie like a used condom - all alone
thrown out and forgotten, just like the rest.
