This is basically a song about someone struggling with his spirituality and his ability to remain faithful. I redid an old Jacksons song (Heartbreak Hotel). I think it goes perfectly with the subject matter.

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I was watching one of those "mega-church" pastors. All he talked about was making money, giving money to the church, and his lavish lifestyle. I also wanted to show the cause and effect of infidelity from a male's perspective. I do NOT condone cheating by the way...

Issues

I gotta use my right to live or be left to die. It’ll be best if I
Go to church and Testify. If I confess that I’m a mess and I’d be blessed if I
Arrest my stress and just rest my mind. They suggest that I invest and divest
The rest of my check from my bank and I guess that I won’t be heaven sent
Cause I can’t repent and that 10 percent? They won’t get a cent …Cause that’s my rent!
I’ve spent so many nights wrestling my religion, second guessing where I fit in
And testing my position. What’s my mission? Cause I question His existence.
Is He living? Make me listen—cause someone stole the pot I piss in!
Is there something that I’m missing? I’m wishing my vision was stricter.
I need an elixir to clear this fuzzy picture.
I’ve been duped by a trickster, a slickster.
Cause there’s nothing in the scripture that says “Make your pastor richer.”
Pastor has to getcha, congregation pays his rent, see.
Shiny Bentley, he’s friendly until your pockets are empty.
Friendly no more, the pastor shows you the door.
God OWNS the Universe, so what’s he need my money for?
(Chorus)
Right or left, left or right, which way do I go? (You got issues) yeah I got issues.
Right or left, left or right, which way do I go? (You got issues) yeah I got issues.

Instant chemistry when I met ya. I didn’t wanna sweat ya, but I knew I had to getcha.
I couldn’t let ya slip beyond the reach of my finger-tips
Damn, can I put my lips on your hips and tits? You give me fits.
I guess I’m smitten by this finger lickin’ sex kitten, Maybe I’m bitten by that bug.
Not love but like. Thick, chocolate-covered delight. I know that fruit looks right.
I like! Can I take a bite or just a nibble? I drool and dribble
When I think about that tasty kibble can I give a little
Intercourse of the mental kind? Can I just rent your mind?
Find, rewind and dine on refined ideas.
It’s clear that this food for thought is fulfilling,
But am I willing to give her top billing and share my feelings?
Am I dealing with the real thing or a dead ringer?
A head ringer, femme fatale with a deadly stinger?
I linger, can’t put my finger on my suspicions, superstitions
Psychic visions about this vixen. Decisions, should I be proficient in my game
And treat her the same as the last dame that caused me pain? What’s her name?
Pain gastric caused by the last chick
Makes me push love to the side and walk right past it.
I didn’t mean to tear your mind apart. I threw darts
At the heart of my work of art and I hit the mark and in the process
Those evil forces caused me to become emotionally lawless.
Her flawless demeanor Disappeared in a flood of tears.
I cringed when the sobs of my dear speared my ears.
I steered clear of her atmosphere, cause her mental stratosphere
Was filled with confusion, pollution from my smoke and mirrors
Optical illusions, cerebral contusions and fusions of lies and truths.
I think that I’m losing the battle between me and fidelity.
I straddle the fences of who I am and what I better be.
Should I let her be or make my heart get ahead of me
And let her see the better me instead of (just) me?
My pedigree’s my enemy and it’s set in me, so I think with my phallus
And steadily it makes me callous, unintentional malice.
I breached the walls of her palace and now I sift through her rubble
Trying in vain to find a way to re-inflate that old bubble that I burst
I let my thirst for sex overwhelm me.
Don’t nail me to no crosses cause my losses cause anguish.
I languish in language unspoken, and hearts that I’ve broken.
I had her roped in, but now I’m soaking and choking in sorrow.
Hoping tomorrow I can witness forgiveness and give this relationship business
A release from my sh*** list and kick this dismissive attitude to the curb with the quickness
I quit this so maybe my wish list can twist this present day into yesterday
What’s left to say? It’s best to say “I’m sorry.”

©2008
T. Austin (DarkPoet)