Were married in his heart
They slept together and made
Impossible children
Good-natured ba*tards, villainous saints
And with a kiss and a smile
He'd slip a knife in your back
Tending to your wounds
With a smirk in his eye
And though you loved him like a brother
You had to let him go
The thin rope slipping from your fingers
The quicksand of his nature
Swallowing the last hope
Of something more.