Karma Isn't Real

There is no real karma out anymore
I told you before
Those are your own convictions
Because I deserve to be dead
For the deeds I have done
Going beyond the thoughts in my head

I'm in love
With a young angel above
She doesn't love me
In the sense of the word
And I'm breaking the heart
Of a damsel distressed
And I showed my best
An' hid it right back away

Oh please let god be as forgiving
As all the rumors say
This life I like to call living
Is a burden these days
I don't know why I do the things that I do
But c'est la vie I do them to you

I came from your broken bedroom
Where you had the moon
Hanging decoratively in a frame
And walk where the winners
Are walking out to dance
And I leave you back down the road a-ways

I see you kiss a young man on his temple
And whisper nothings, breathed into his ears
Because he can look at you
With a longing and desire
That could never stay here
As I gesture towards my heart

Why, O why do they keep comedians
On my screen
To heal I need to holster my guns
Laughs just let me forget the pain I cause
While we both watch in distant, silent dreams

I'm a wreck with nervous vital signs
From my lines
Written on a postcard in St. Louis
That which, I mention was stolen
With the intention of making a formal apology

Maybe I need a lover
Closer to my age
That I can manipulate in healthier ways
But I smash things when they look too perfect
And if that is real
How can karma make me deserve it?