fratricide

It's not my fault I was born so old,

or yours for being guileless, easy to adore-

but jealousy's a torch that burns my heart cold.

.

Your eyes were full of pity I shrunk to behold

the night you let me in at your gilded door;

you know it's not my fault I was born so old.

.

I showed you my hand, knowing you'd fold

as we reminisced over the times that came before-

my jealousy, a torch, burning my heart cold.

.

With a thief's hand, I plied your heart of gold

and I watched your defenses fall to the floor,

believing it's not my fault I was born so old.

.

You reached across the table, you took my hand to hold

said, I don't care with they say, you can stay a night or more-

but jealousy's a torch that burns my heart cold.

.

As you turned your back, out my knife was pulled

it should have took one thrust but in the end it took four

(it's not my fault I was born so old,

my jealousy a torch that burnt my heart cold.)