Terror
Alright, alright I’m coming out with my pants up and my hands in the air.
The chase stops here, lower your guns, and tone down your rhetoric of terror.
I knew what I was doing, seeking her out, sneaking her out of celibacy.
The victim in question has wounds that I need not clean.
The abused do not apply to me.
But now the crowds are talking, associating me with the sinful and guilty.
And I could ride out the storm on my pride alone,
But this fight’s not a fight worth fighting for.
So you win, I get it. I’ll drift back to solitude and search the open sea.
I hear there’s plenty of opportunity, if I just cast my bait out properly.
if I just stop stealing the catch of weaker men, stop my Danny Ocean tendencies.
Tylor Sherman
