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