Hamartia

The hell it takes a while

My, my psychotic lover

Shiny gadgets on the floor

That we

We call your mother

And he’s crackin’ on the floor

Every summer by summer

And they tell us he’s a goner

Wait, excuse me

I mean gunner

And he’s crackin’ like a temper

Rib by rib to 45s

Working two days of the week

Bombing  windows on the side

And he’s B.A. as a D goes Jaying at the club

And he calls me on the weekend

Looking for some love, I mean

But not like all those strippers

Ya, that we know

That poker for some stripping

Down at the casino

And it kills me every time that I look him in the eye

Cuz I know that he is straight up drowning in the lie

That says “you’ll never be a boss

Ya you’ll never be at all,

You perfect little bullet that’s been drilling at my skull!

You’ll never be worth shit

No you’ll never be enough!”

But I know that he’s my perfect little diamond in the rough