Throwing Oneself on the Pyre

Left at the altar, I guess I'm not worth the time I always falter, but that's me at my best Dropped the ball, never been my sport I lost it all, one more failure I guess Impaled, burnt, bleeding from the heart Dying numerous deaths must be my art This wound isn't the first, definitely not the last But it's my fault, I keep letting them get past My soul must be into whips, chains, and sharp objects My mutilations seem to see something I just don't get I don't get it at all