Don't Make Me Christ

I... am a sinner, sister… 

I've beaten my chest to show off and I’ve killed some feelings 
I've reveled in the flawed ancient ways of a billion preceding men 
I've taken part in wrongful and latent dealings 
I've blown out faith and I've sucked in coal 

I lost all of my innocence to the history books by the time I was thirteen 
I became a man before I could tie my own shoes 
I rinsed my conscience in a dirty bathroom sink and I called it clean 
I sucked in my chest and hid behind my wounds because I didn’t want to lose 

And here I am now, sister, holding the door for you to go before me 
And you look at me with distain and call me a suitor with your eyes 
And it wasn't any of the latter things that tore me 
No... It was the echoing sounds of my mother as she cries 

I am a sinner so don't make me out to be Christ 
I will not be a martyr for the idea of courtesy and act good 
For I’m sure to be dammed if I fall and become the good man's zeitgeist 
And everything that I have done in my life will be misunderstood 

So thank me or not, sister, just go through the door 
And think nothing of it, if just a gentleman’s' ways 
And let me live on and of me think no more 
And be ignorant not, sister, because maturity pays 

And maybe someday you'll know who I truly am 
You'll see me with the open eyes that adolescence kept closed 
And then you will be able to judge me, madam 
And maybe then a true feeling may upon you be posed 

So, sister... I am a sinner… 
I am beautiful and I am flawed 
You are beautiful and you are flawed 
And we are all flawed in such beautiful ways 

So don't make me Christ, sister… because Christ was perfect 


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