I already know the song you’re composing: the ballad of how I shunned my own disciple when I refused to hear your holy creed and met your devotion with denial
I’ll bear the blame for all your sins because you burn yourself to earn the crowd’s applause. You’ll die a martyr for your misled cause and swear a witch is all I ever was
But I kept the bloodstained dress, the bloody mess where you stabbed me, then feigned innocence
You pledged your allegiance, so I came to you unarmed But you’re always the victim, even when you stand unharmed
Nights you showed up with empty cups drunk at my doorstep, unannounced
My fragile peace you’d interrupt to drag me down in my own house
I’m not your judge, so I’ll drop my grudge I don’t trust my patience, so I’ll trust the Lord to show you the mercy you’ll never learn
I wish you well on your trip to hell as you cross the bridge you burned
