You call yourself a friend,
But I must be the exception
That proves the rule,
That begs the question,
Can you open your mouth
And make a confession?
I don't mean a worm,
Just to snag your attention.
Betrayed again, Judas blues.
Should I lionize myself,
And rake in the contempt,
Try to chastise you
For not keeping me exempt
From all of these joys
Of the usual blend,
Mainly self-pity, self-hate and big syringe.
Hang in there, Jesus blues.