If the Devil had a friend,
Who would it be?
Would it be you or
        would it be me?
You played with a top,
but you left it there spinning.
My mother's darkest hour
         became my beginning.
You abused her, ***** her,
and used for game.
Now because of you
         I'm the embodiment of shame.
A man has a job
to do what is right
but you'd rather crush souls
          and play as you'd like.
So I ask again, If the Devil had a friend,
who would it be?
Would it be you?
           Because I refuse for it to be me.
There's a thin line between right and wrong,
And now Nineteen years have gone.
I've cried and been angry
           but it all left me empty.  
A child can not pay
for the sins of the father
so I refuse to feel shame
            for what you did to my mother.
If the Devil had a friend.
Who would it be?
Would it be you?
Or would it be me?