My father ripped me off.

The lovers of sin are children skirting the lines of love and hate But what is this in the midst of perfection when promised grace is only a priority How can the sinners love the face of mercy when from this not a tree hath they been given that they might eat from, from thy own father so adultry beith all they acheive A father cannot expect love from his spawn when he has created his own image he must expect hypocrites like he himself who hath taught the young how to sin They learned that they can treat themselves redeemable so as they have been taught, they proceed in the shadow of deceit they are expected to starve and live a life of humility Their chances are promised and endless, aye? like the sun that over the hills doth rise But even this will fall victim to the night when then they will beg for mercy (which now they have no right) A father, a judge so unfair i now question mercy and now know love is not there a child learns better on his own Leave thy children in the dark and promise nothing is fair