You chose the plague
at the expense of the holy child.
Baby, you know I'd never hurt you
but you're only pretty when you're crying.
I'm alone at least 6 nights a week.
Don't deny it.
Don't you dare try to lie to me.
This is passion in the form of red-handed denial.
Play the piano like a disease and
tell me exactly what the distance means to me.
Altar. Sacrifice. Martyr.
Time. Energy. Life.
Every person makes their choices.
You chose the plague
at the expense of the holy child.