Well, you’re lucky, I guess—
That you never really got into me.
Because what would’ve happened?
I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
These words?
They don’t touch me.
But your ego?
That could use a little decomposing.
If I were part of the problem,
Then where does that leave you?
Fumbling through good women,
Yet you wonder why you always end up so blue.
Oh, yeah—
I howl under the full moon’s bloom,
Preying and hunting for lamb skin.
Aren’t you glad you caught on
To my masks so thin?
You took one for the team, boy.
To you, I was always a faraway dream.
Yeah, yeah—go play the fool.
Too bad, so sad—not into you.
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