You're a beast.
Finding conquests in the midnight air.
I know you don't spare anytime for people who truly care just quick flirts and fucks.
I'll never contain the whole of it.
The mere existence of you is paining.
If you only knew.
But you don't. 
And you can't

You're selfish. 
Always will be. Is that a crime? No.
I know what a true crime is now.
I've seen the side, the side of truly losing freedom.

True loss of freedom: You have no idea. The stains it leaves on the wrists and on your hands, but there’s no pity from this agony song.

You are too busy plunging your mind into the depths of women and hedonistic existence. 
Again, not a crime.
But then you'll lose the whole of it.
and then what?
Nothing. You wouldn't care.

You’re a beast, I could never contain the whole of your super nova,
as I rummage my panic stricken flesh down to its core, searching for the pit and some respect and medicinal harmony. 
I only exist in contemplation, and then, you dispossess yourself of me.

I could never contain the whole of it, of you, the beast,
wicked brown eyes, daggers to her soul, daggers into her,
plunging and bleeding out, the well-manufactured speech of the gods,
if at odds with the world and my shattered heart,
you distrust every word from my lips to fuck her into sudden bliss,
and then it breeds selfishness, but who is the one to judge?

I’ve seen evil lock lips on a midnight and curse my name,
in all my agonized plights to sustain myself away from you,
I shouldn’t be this battered, but distance is the killer,
and I could never contain the whole of it, this pain,
You’re a beast, and I’m still waiting for you to ravage me.