My guilt
Wrapped around me
As a comforting solidarity
And I knew I wouldn't
Be asked to do much more
My presence enough
Fortold
Un-interupt
The lessons
Grow cold

White porcelain skin
Gets red in the winds
And I have little patience
You start
And I interrupt

Everything is callous
To obscure
The corrupt
Index
Inquisition
Easier not to inquire
A blessing to cover up

I get away with so much
And as I should
Because of a matter of fact
The truth is that I'm good
But I'm a pain in the ass
And I corrupt any class
Or figures of behaviors
That are absolutes
And not favors