Birthday

It's late and I'm tired and my eyes are heavy

My body can't take anymore

I close them tight and I try to breathe steady

My mind and my heart are torn

I look at your filthy hands and I see the grime in the cracks

Disgusting. Vermin. You're holding me close.

I'm no more a saint than you are a good man

The only yours, mine and ours, we have is with sin.

I'm better with you than I am without

Like choosing the pan over the fire

I guess I'd rather sizzle than snap

I want my heart back.