Bless me father,
for I have sinned.
My conscious is bothered,
more than it has never been.
I cry all night long,
with guilt for my wrongs.
I dwell in self-pity,
but the tears can’t wash away my inequity.
For the God that created me,
I long defied.
As glorified His name should be,
my lips had it defiled.
And of the Sabbath, who’d be sure?
that I didn’t lose my way between the alter and the door?
I'm no longer my father’s son,
and cursed be my name,
for my mother’s heart burns,
not with pride, but with shame.
For I slew my own brother,
his blood rests in my hands.
And laid with my sister,
as many times as the sea sand.
The truth has never been mine to say,
and this became more of my habit,
since it helps me get my way,
now I don’t know how to quit.
My ego ever desires,
without pure intentions,
since my morality melts with fires
of fighting temptations.
I’ve done it all father,
all abominations.
So, tell me father,
do I still deserve no condemnation?
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