My Angel

Beg my pardon but is there a sale?
I want the little one, the one who is pale
Can I get permission to exhale?
It’s almost like you want me to fail

I can’t brake loose
Can I hide?
Can I die?

When your body you advertise
Then it’s me you traumatize
Can I get permission to act surprised?
It’s more than a question of size

I can’t bend the truth
Can I cry?
Can I lie?

Because
You’re my angel
You’re my angel
You are my angel
You’re my angel
You’re my angel

My very own grim reaper with wings and sharp teeth
My angel
My very own black widow with nails and killer instincts
My angel
My very own precious monster with red paint and a cold heart
My angel
My very own skullface with bleeding wrists and vicious eyes

But you’re not an angel