A cold sore and a box of tampons On the eve of new year's eve Was my wake up call a cosmic karma ***** slap if you will A sign from the gods that there will be hell to pay if I don't try to change my ways Enough of the hunt and chase they say for I've carpeted my dense forest with all the maimed hearts from seven years of a coquettish past
But how to change? How does the hunter willingly become the hunted to throw down one's crossbow and wait defenseless I'm so good at what I do How do I force myself to lose my self in order to stop the vicious thing I've become