Compulsive

Sing me to sleep
Unfounded sense of security
Then stab me from behind.
See past the smile,
You're running away from the finish line,
And tripped on your own lies.

With grace on all
And hints of pleasure on occasions
But could it be
That other's trials become my cup of tea?
Oh please it's just a part of me
Those bastard needs to be
So fucking compulsive

Laugh at denial
Your anti confrontational ploys
You're blinkered from both sides
See past the smile
You're running away from the finish line
And choked on your own lies