Anathema

There’s nothing more to say
So I’ll take your hand
Then spit in your face
If you wanted to be forgiven
And call a truce
Then you better think again
Start hanging your noose

For as long as you lived
You constantly played the part
Of a conceded little prick
Patronizing everyone around you
And you still don’t have the sense to quit

Amity no longer stands
For any current demands
Your censure tactics
Have all ended pointless

Withstanding this waging battle
Contently relying on your shadow
How does it feel
When you can’t tell which one is real

Sadistic whisky girl
Nothing left but her
Roll your dice if you please
But I’ll never be beat
By someone who continues to
Slip in and out of
Homemade insanity

Just because of your situation
Didn’t mean you could be a bitch
Busy having
Your little panic fits

This life was gave to you
The faults made on your own
This fight was not ignited
Over stupid petty differences that you think you ‘really’ know