I.
Bless me father I am a mass of sin,
don’t ask me how long it’s been.
I lied, cheated, and stole.
Each blemish weighs on my soul.
When I was eleven I set a house on fire.
One or two bodies lay on that funeral pyre.
Do you feel me Lord? Do you feel me Father?
I stood by the heat ’til it wasn’t a bother.
A darkness set in and put me on the wicked way.
Mama and the preacher teacher began to pray.
They hoped to end my predation and find me salvation.
Too bad, too sad, I enjoyed my damnation.
But I wasn’t always so cruel
I loved to run and play in school.
Those days ended when from behind the sacristy
the pastor showed me his itty bitty ministry.
When he finished and picked up his collar,
left me with a silver half-dollar.
Of course the world gave as much as it took,
smacked me like a bitch from the good book.
The old song said he shot a man to watch him bleed.
Me too, ‘cept I cut him while I…
