The Hope of a Saint
The Faith of a Nun
The good will of a peasant's son
The sins of a criminal

Now I'm sitting in this grim ambulance
2 pairs of eyes in uniform supervise my every action
during the longest ride of my life
hopefully my last.

A sheer cold 9mm bullet resides in my lungs
It's become a part of me
The bullet is at a pitchfork on
my life highway. Left is Life, Right is Death.
It's too bad my conscience is in the passenger seat
and he's pulling the steering wheel in his direction.
To the right, to the right.

My profession was to give this feeling to others.
I'm basically a demon with a hunger for money.
But then again, aren't we all?
I do regret giving this feeling to others in my past.
Stupid fucking sins.
Sins are a part of life
Death is a part of life
Hopes and Dreams are a part of life
But when the hope becomes a malevolent, 'do or die' desire
that dream becomes a recurring, 'get out of my head' nightmare.

The hope of a saint
The faith of a nun
The good will of a peasant's son
The sins of everyone

I am a criminal, so to speak.
Criminalized state of mind.
I am a saint, so to speak.
Criminal and saint intertwined.
I am the paradox.
Good intentions and bad methods.
Now my dreams don't exist.
Just crime scene realities
and deviant bloody nightmares.

Son, if you only knew.
Son, my chances I blew.
I've fucked up lives
But I'll end my own
before I fuck yours up.

Son, if only you were older than two...
Son, if only you knew...