Cross Your Heart

You think you are some hot shot
Guiding, manipulating the crowd
With your fake sense of enjoyment
With which you were so proud

Take a look at what you've done
All this to destroy your friends
Take a look at this heart
And tell me when it will end
Tell me when this will end

I'm sick of your fraudulent actions
The way you can breathe lies
Sick of your pathetic tribulations
Which are all a simple disguise

You wrap your fingers around it
The pulsing organ you love
To bleed it dry in anguish
A pain that you're so free of
And why should you be free of?

Your touch is ailing, defective
With the seductive deceit you breathe
You know you're oh so contradictive
With what you say to believe

With a quiet sigh I've embraced you
The disappointment covers my face
"What am I do to with you?"
A combination of sorrow and grace