and when it occurs,
that vile s(k)in,
I am glad that they cannot see,
because I would hate for them to kneel,
to pray for me,
because, really,
how do you tell an angel,
that you don't really.
believe in god?
only the pills, they slip into,
your food.

and this angel,
he told me once,
he loved me,
but I didn't believe him,
because my fingers,
were dirty,
from the sin,
and his were flawless,
against my skin.

and I look into his eyes,
and he tells me that I look so,
innocent, and his angel blues,
shine with such emotion that,
it would feel better to explode,
but he doesn't seem to care,
that I am used,

although he likes to pretend sometimes.