(Running away)
Fear dressed in a suit.
Just a little confused.
(Confused)
Locked in a cage.
Overcome by rage.
Of freedom not used.
(Confused)
(Uh.)
Looking-for the-next-victim.
Polluted.
By sin polluted.
The Spirit tells me “Don’t do it.”
(Don’t do it.)
Don’t do it.
Don’t do it.
It’s so easy to get in
And so hard to get through it.
(Get through it.)
Through it all,
Through it in.
That’s the promise I made
And I couldn’t fulfill.
And now as a loser
With a big fake smile,
I want to screw another life.
Screw another bed,
Screw another girl.
(Screw another…)
(Screw another…)
Welcome to the game.
Back to the game.
Sex is the game.
Pleasure is the game.
Undress anyone is my game.
My pain is untamed.
When I see I’m the loser of the game.
(Running away)
(Running away)
I want to scream and cry.
Break my heart.
Cuz, I cannot understand
What the heck is going on.
Oh, Lord
I don’t know what to do.
Even in pain
You know I trust in you.
But I want to sink in this sh*t.
I want to die in this sh*t.
“I’m a flirt, I’m a flirt.”
Screw you, R-Kelly…
You just ruined my life…
And I lost my wife….
The love of my life.
I want to break inside
And I can feel the lust,
Running through my veins;
But I look upon the cross
And I wait upon that grace
(To fade away…)
(To fade away…)
(From my deepest desires…)
I just don’t want to be alone.
I just don’t want to be alone.
From bed to bed,
From girl to girl,
From hell to hell…
From shame to shame
It just makes me feel like….
From pain to pain.
From dream to dream.
From deception to another one,
(Heartbreak)
(It just makes me like:)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(..Me feel like Don Draper.)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(Have mercy on me a sinner.)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(…me feel like Don Draper.)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(…me feel like, I feel like…)
I wanna mix
creativity with my fragility.
Of my heart: calamity.
The pain is killing me.
Are you feeling me?
Screaming and moaning
and growling, and asking
and begging for an answer,
So I can heal much faster.
But, now...
Facing on myself.
Mirror.
Screaming on myself.
Mirror.
I Hate You.
(I Hate You.)
Monologues of the soul.
I need Her.
(I need Her.)
Is the cry-out of my lungs.
Do we created love to sell
lingerie and condoms, maybe?
Is all about the F-*-C-K word, maybe?
Is all about the 11-minute heaven, maybe?
Or maybe...we are all screwed up.
I just want to suit up.
And go the diner,
that stupid diner.
And look at her in the face.
....And look at her in the face.
OH, GOD! WHAT THE H*** IS GOING ON?!
ARE MY LUNGS STILL ON BREATHING?
(Beat On.)
Oh....This s*** just make me:
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(..Me feel like Don Draper.)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(Have mercy on me a sinner.)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(…me feel like Don Draper.)
It makes me feel like Don Draper.
(…me feel like, I feel like…)
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