God Has A Hitman Lyrics
I feel like God has a hitman
She’s thin, and she’s blonde, and she smokes
She lives in a walk-up in Flatbush
And she’s always in on the joke
She’s just the right flavor of fucked up
A sick bird who still gets you hard
I make myself into her victim
She’s just firing wild in the dark
Maybe she’ll be your karma
Or maybe you’ll always win
Maybe God don’t need to hire a hitman
For me to die for you again
God has a hitman, I’ve seen her
He designed her just for me
He’s everything I never was so
She’s all that you wished I could be
She writes you as a gentleman
And I’m eating it up like a fool
Like I didn’t already have you
Like I’m not still cleaning the wound
Maybe she’ll be your karma
Or maybe you’ll always win
Maybe God don’t need to hire a hitman
For me to die for you again
Hope I’m not the only one walking
With shrapnel still lodged in my head
I hope you feel half of what I did
And I hope she leaves you for dead
One day God won’t try to test me
With hitmen with fine golden hair
Yeah, maybe she’ll give you your karma
Yeah, maybe, but one day I won’t even care
