I’m addicted to sin
There’s no better way to say it
There’s no safer way to put it
Slave to my lust and desires
Trapped by the pleasures I won’t give up
Not can’t but simply won’t
Like a child, I have come,
To hold my wants as important,
Maybe more important than what is,
However I’m in need.
I’m in need of that saving grace,
I’m in need of that gentle voice,
I’m in need of the quacking fire,
I know this.
Yet I can’t bring myself to ask.
What if it’s too late?
What if I’m too late?
But its only a little too late,
When I don’t see the break of day,
Its only a little too late,
When the row is called,
And my name can not be found.
Blotted out with the blackest of inks.
Because this one was once on the list,
But got side tracked by mundane pleasures.
Pleasures that never last,
Temporary, fickle pleasures.
I’m a slave to the pleasures my flesh seeks,
But I’d rather a more permanent pleasure,
The one my soul seeks.