I remember when you thought you found god Painted a cross on your forehead And wandered around my backyard like a saint Or a shepherd tending to his flock The irony was not lost on me And for all your newfound love You still seemed like a bastard Then, you carried on like all the world was yours To pity and to teach and comfort as if because, somehow, you forgave yourself That all your terrible deeds have been undone
tending, newfound, forgave, forehead, irony