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Sunday, August 05, 2012

Bathtime for Comet

(For any christian who, like me, is sometimes just sick to death of their own shyte.)

Here we go again,
Face down in a bowl of vomit
Oil on canvas heroin
Familiar ground for Joshua’s comet

Bath time again,
Cause I dragged us through the mud
Fur’s all matted with sin
I’ll get the washtub, you pour the blood

Sorry about this, Master
I wish there was more I could do
Than just sit in the holy water
While you scrub me good as new

Wish I really felt clean
Since you treat me like best in show
It’s hard to be a champ’een
When in the back of my mind I know

Your puppy with the golden tags
Will sneak back through that hole in the fence
And with my tail between my legs
Happily commit some same old, new offense

Time heals all wounds
What about wounds of guilt and shame
Is it just an ego bruised?
That makes me cringe when you call my name

I guess I thought
That some things were going to get better
But every time I’m caught
The baths just feel that much wetter.

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