I’ve been that over zealous Casanova
My supernova’s sleeping on me
Now the flow’s diluted with copious suspicion
Can Jesus still save me if I abort this mission?
I screen time hoping my fears stop watching me
I need those collard greens to replenish my pasture
I’m pastoring my reasoning, preaching prosperity to my pondering
Drowning in the flood of next steps
I am the last breath of a frog prince
The kiss of death may be my only hope
If resurrection is for believers am I agnostic?
I’m weaving memorials with prophecy like a cross-stitch
Cull me or crown me, I’ll live or learn what loss is
I am a badger calling a spade a spade in a game of hearts
I’m on a bored walk hoping cupid can re-tip that dart
I am 180 degrees of honesty on reflection so I know in part
I impart jewels of liberation like engagement rings through inception
Is the kiss of death classed as a public sign of affection?
If so I’m collecting autographs hoping to sell them to the highest bidder
Storage wars rumble on and if I lose I’m a sinner, if I win I’m a saint
Without honour in defeat there’ll be a new past to date
So I watch and wait for that one six o’ eight