predisposition for pain.

motherfucker, do i know the name of love.

and have i basked in the grip of grief.

i’ve dined in between death and horror,

made them both ache for relief.

i’ve adored, praised, begged on my knees.

sizzled hot and boiled cold.

cracked and poured remains of truth,

over girls who bared their teeth.

twist me into your confessional, hard-hearted

tonight i’m dark wood, incense, your first sin.

i’ll bow my head, I’ll kiss your temples.

tonight I’m comfort, mercy, sweet water and skin.

and you, you’re the world here.

tonight, self-willed, you’re free.

word is not blade, nor hand, nor pen.

it is life itself tearing, pulling, sobbing for peace.

word is our future, our memory,

word is the place i’ll lay you to sleep in.

motherfucker, have i got a story to tell.

have i lost and loved and grieved.

i’ve had breakfast next to your soft eyes,

they both taught me to plead.

//

I can neither confirm nor deny whether Hozier possessed me to write this.