I am a criminal of the worst kind,
I became friends with you,
just to use you, abuse you,
and leave you all alone after I'm finished.
This is common for me, to move from house to house,
Living off people just to get by in life,
I've never had a real job,
Only job I've ever had is crime.
Searching through your room
To find what I need,
Whether it be money, a shirt, cologne,
I take it without conscientious thought,
Like it’s second nature to me,
I never feel guilt until after the fact.
It started out when I was young,
I didn’t care really care about feelings
Other than my own,
I just did what I wanted,
Took what I could,
And now I’m a straight-up thieve and liar.
I look you straight in the eye,
And I tell a lie to your face.
I do this so perfectly well
That you never take notice
To that twinkle in my eye,
Or that smirk on my face,
You just go on believing I’m perfect.
Rummaging through your cabinets,
Aiming to find something special,
And I come across something rather embarrassing.
I have a chuckle to myself
As I continue my act of self-destruction.
I know I can’t continue on like this forever,
But in my current state of immaturity,
I feel it’s quite rewarding.