I did it again, though I swore I never would, that the last time was the end
leaving me wondering at my own morals and the value of my word
and how much in life is built on "never again"?
The dirtiness, tangible and muddy,
the soil on my soul
Lord I swear, I just don't know how I allow
myself to be cajoled
but the breath on my neck and the honey on his lips
make me surrender it all, make me want to lost it all,
just to taste a bit,
so I take another hit,
and get home under the sheets and fill myself with why's,
not even truly sorry,
and craving the music in his sighs