Seven Sins

Let's start with the seven, fuckin' cliché
Left arm’s a canvas, got no one's to blame
Ate my first kill like chocolate — still tastes like ash
Now the fanatics call me ”The devil’s whiplash”

Seven sins? Nah, seven scars
One for each time I forgot who the fuck I are

First scar’s a knife in the ribs — still leaks when it rains
Second’s the catboy who jumped into hell for my chains
Third’s a tattoo where my heart quit — now it’s just ink
Fourth’s the princess who still thinks I give a shit

Grim says I’m art — like a fucked-up Picasso
Half red, half black, like a split personality show
Ophie still texts me ”Come home, you asshole”
But home’s just a word I tattooed on my toe

Seven years? Nah, seven scars
One for each time I got lost in the fucking dark!

Fifth? A joke — it’s the birthmark I cursed
Sixth’s the dick I keep dipping in lies instead
Seventh's the demon who whispers ”You’re already dead”
‘Cause the only scar left…

If wounds were resumes, I’d be overqualified
If pain was a currency, I’d be rich and one-eyed
But Grim’s my accountant, he’s cooking the books
And Keith’s just a sim who still hates how I look

First scar’s the womb should’ve stayed in the void
Second’s the ”hero” I let get destroyed
Third’s the addiction — ”Just one more hit”
Fourth’s the ”I love you” I never admit
Fifth’s the reflection that grins in the glass
Sixth’s the forever that didn’t last
Seventh? A bullet with somebody’s name
But the gun’s in my mouth
And we all know who’s to blame!

Aaahh-Aaahh
Aaahh-Aaahh