Waiting for my crucifixition, in my constant terrible condition,
Laying in my sinner's position, begging for redemption,
Oh, for fuck's sake, I must torment myself a millenia for my thinking,
That's knowing that I can't erase my thoughts through drinking.
Whip my skin, break my bones, chain me, take my freedom,
And erase myself, even though that I wish for it seldom.
I wish for happiness for everyone else but me, fuck that.
I slam my self worth like nothing repeatedly on the mat.
I must find joy through something else, just like a sinner.
And I wish that my life was as tasty as my last dinner.
