Sacrilege Offering

Maybe it would be better if you were to die,
and I wouldn't have to bear this cross of pain,
I wouldn't have to live with your little white lie.
No one would have to keep playing this game.

I lay awake and hear the sounds of sin.
They whispers won't go away on matter how loud I scream,
and I wonder if the devil knows where you've been,
or perhaps this has all been a dream.

Push the thorns deeper into my skull,
see if you can make me admit my mistake.
They're there, but the memory is dull.
Maybe I'll just simply burn like a witch at the stake.

I drink the blood of every saint,
and then I beg before you on my knees.
Listen to these tales I weave and paint,
and put me out of my misery.