The Saint
The Saint
Your lies have consequences,
Your brutality gets its payback.
You can't be a saviour when all you do is save yourself from redemption.
Body so young, clothing so millennium
Yet thoughts of a medieval diva.
Unicorns and angels are a myth
The world you've forged over and over in your head is a deception
You tell yourself you're a humorist Saint
But hurting someone's feelings isn't humour.
So,
Go on, get your retribution
But at what cost? Your virtue, your abstract anima?