I’m not the one you play Bob the Builder with because I keep a tool kit,
And when I cock back I empty a full clip just to prove that what I said wasn’t bullshit.
You see how he pushes up, it’s that one type love that won’t die.
I’m sorry beautiful girl, but it ain’t my fault that he made you cry.
We’ve all felt that pain, we’ve all been there, we survived so you’ll be aiight.
Just don’t come ’round these parts with the drama ’cause you can’t sleep at night.
We exchange frequencies when I give that man love and motivation,
I push him past his limits, unlike you gassing mediocrity up like the station.
Inside me I can feel the changes, it looks like I have my mojo back
No more writer’s block and I feel my heart beat slow, it’s on full attack.
I must confess that I have no idea when love became so elusive
but it has been made clear that it is only his that is exclusive.
So the one thing you cannot do is cause a block in God’s will,
I pray the devil lead you back to the trap and sedate you with a chill pill.
Because, Murder is a sin. Murder is a Sin. Murder. Is. A. Sin.
So what exactly is the punishment for killing something within?
Much like you, I’ve broken down walls only to rebuild them again and again,
Looking deep into the mirror only to find that I’m looking more like men.
Hands steady, always at the gun range aimlessly hitting every target I see,
Keeping them at bay with warning shots so they cannot view the dead body.
I was in your corner. And she pushed me out of the window, then locked every door.
Outside, in the cold I sat on the curb with no umbrella during the thunderstorm.
Eventually I ran in the rain but slipped and tumbled into the street,
I fell so hard, so fast but still ended up on my knees at his feet.
We have all been there hun, and some of us were on the inside.
“Murder is a sin”, he said, “Beautiful girl, don’t ever let them see you cry.”