King of the DS

King of the DS

You once told me you didn’t like piercings.

You once told me you didn’t like tattoos.

And that you didn’t like painted hair and nails.

You once told me I shouldn’t wear makeup even for myself.

 

You once accused me of having double standards,

but what the fuck happened there?

 

Dear King of the DS,

I should kick your ass.

 

Tell me the difference,

That she brought to break that which you once told me.

Tell me, please.

I’m all out of analyses.

 

You’re the one that’s tattooed.

And her gauges are larger than mine.

Her face is caked in a nice thick layer…

Who the fuck is this new little faker?

 

She made it to your profile picture,

A hell of a lot more than you did for me.

Even when I asked you,

There were double standards instead to work through.

 

Fuck you,

Dearest King of the DS.

 

Flaunting double standards as if they’re a show.

You’re gonna get caught one day,

And I’m gonna laugh as I turn to go.

 

No more accusations there will be on that day,

As your harem of whores dissipates.

And I’ll be glad I don’t have a part when that all goes askew.

Boy, that will really suck for you.

 

And all thanks to your fucking double standards,

King of the DS.

Grasping three months I’d like to repossess.

 

Speak of the devil,

It’s as if as soon as I speak your name,

Speak of the devil,

Another message came.

 

It doesn’t matter if I don’t answer,

Despite the response I’d like to send.

There’s still your blinking message there.

You’d think it would know that I don’t care.

 

It used to be okay when you never answered me.

So why’s not okay now when I do the same damn thing?

 

Dear King of the Double Standard,

of the DS.

You sure are the fucking king.

And a least now you’ve got your whore of a queen.

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