He got in the car and drove me away
in the direction of the devil's house,
a free ride to endless torture and pain.
I was given lessons at their church
about God hating me,
wanting me punished for my sins,
and how God had put these men
in charge of me,
to help me learn my lessons.
Most of those nights,
my observation became restricted,
sometimes denied with blindfolds,
or blurred with pills which made me
drift in and out of consciousness -
not even knowing what was real.
But you, Master, you know I am real,
and you done well trying to make me forget.
But one hundred men invading
your body, soul, and mind,
is not something that easily slips away,
no matter how much I try to make it.
And I know you can't swallow your pride
as you raise your whisky glass,
but don't put the blame on me
for the nights I am beginning to remember,
for you must not have drugged me well enough,
or maybe God had heard my pleas
and knew that you were a liar!
