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Down And Dirty

 



You bow down to a woman, only to do her dirty,
Preaching freedom while drowning in hypocrisy.

You treat her right when your throat runs dry,
Lust-driven hands, masked with a lover’s lie.

Did you think she breathes for your vanity?
You break her down, then mock her insanity.
Does it thrill you, watching her question humanity,
While you revel in the comfort of your profanity?

You wear your sins like a crown of pride,
Hiding behind walls where your cowardice resides.
But doesn’t it burn when a woman plays you?
Lucky for you, she’s not wielding swords—
Or you’d beg for mercy before she slays you.

Even Shiva had to bow to still Kali’s wrath—
What makes you think you could do a woman dirty
And she would go down easy?

Me? I could inflict all the pain on you,
Be it the trigger's pull or the dagger's kiss,
But for now, I hope you die with a thousand cuts,
And my words will be forever here—
No ointment can heal the stings.

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