allow me to be perfectly clear
that perfection has lost its cause on me
even if i had the formula to follow
the steps to take
the exact directions to get me there
i would find a way to
throw a stone--break it
take a gun--kill it
see it coming--and run the other way.
so you're not confused:
i knew exactly what i was doing
when i
walked to my sin
checked my morals at the door
and let my twisted excuse for a
heart
convince me that this can make up
for the real thing.
in case you were misled
that stone in my chest is the same one
the same
that i used to crack perfection
to make noise
to stack high on its side,
an illusion of substance
and quality.
i went with the strength of an army
determined
that what i want will ever outlast
what i should
and don't dare confuse that
with what i was taught.
for even Paul had tried to simplify
i dont do what i should
i do what was never the plan
and still i regret to tell you
a plan i simply can't afford.
i've already spent what was
left
of value
on the moment i became
what i swore i'd never be.
do your Best to fit me into
your cutout of forgiveness
easy, since you won't carry around
those that hurt you
on your back.
i've been carrying Mariela
for 20 years now
forgiveness the
farthest
town from where i stand
(perfection itself the only house
farther)
the load grows
only to bend my face closer
to the ground i feel
i'm already pressed to.