Each night he comes,
A vicar in his wake,
And I am bowed, mostly,
That he chose me to be led astray.
I'm the one to quench his thirst,
But he returns,
Back to her arms,
To find his home again.
She wears the prettiest diamonds,
And lipstick redder than roses,
But all I want is that tag,
His being to be mine.
Why doesn't she leave?
Does she like,
Tasting my lips on his?
Or is she helpless, like me,
Already in too deep?
I love you, he says,
I will never leave,
But he won't leave her, too.
The word 'slut' has occured,
A hundred times in my head.
You've ruined us, she says,
But hasn't he ruined me, too?
I am the one there to pick up,
The messy, crumpled sheets,
And to hide the marks of my promiscuity.
The word she says I am,
It begins with R, ends with I,
I know I should leave,
But I'm sorry, I love him, too.
Still, I hope,
Maybe one day I won't have to,
Hide the proof of his love,
Afterall, she used to be his other woman too.
