Bury The Messenger

And the chorus swells.
Congratulations motherfucker on that bullshit novel of yours.
And that performance taking stakes in your feet and hands.
Am I the lesser man? These knees bend for no one.
My god stands even with me.
We shed new skin with repentance but our failures are never flesh deep.
Is this what you call love? Put on a happy face.
Let's make this pleasant.
Refuse love.
Fuck your love.