Excuse me bitch,
you’re no man's prize,
loose lips and morals,
as you open your thighs.
Haunted by your sick, insane need
to feel wanted by any taken man.
Fleeing the responsibility of thousands of tears,
tears that will drown you in time.
I wonder who to blame;
the adulterer or the adultress
the actor or the actress
the whore or the man who leaves...
only to return,
whispering bittersweet lies,
looking on,
while I burn.
How does one truly forgive?
How does one truly move on?
I hear retellings of my tragic love story in every country song.
In dreams
I picture her walking,
ruby red lips and pale skin
proud of her conquest
the prize she has won
in her celebratory dance of sin.
Her tears will come
as karma fears none
you always pay for what you do.
The trickery of trust,
the lies of lust,
They always come back to you.