Woke masked in confusion with a sore undercarriage
One more shame to survive, another stone in the baggage
I slowly start to rise, and begin to comprehend
The presence of this sharp bandit who stabs just like a friend
Takes some skill to figure out just what I need to hear
Guess I present no challenge to a master puppeteer
Thought you could just say sorry, and prompt my forgiving?
That only works on Jesus, and I am just a plaything
Takes years of calculation to know the tender spots
Right time and place to stick and twist, unravelling my knot
I hope that it was worth it, this farce is at an end
You’ll never get a second chance to stab me like a friend
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