kiss my filthy mouth and love it

it sounds cliche, but i walk through the night, under, beside and above the rain - feeling it soak me, knowing i should wear a coat, get out of the road or put some shoes on...my body convulses with the cold, and i know i'm catching my death in sneezes and coughs...but this is too pure, this rain is the blood of the lamb and because i walk with my face up to God, he blesses me...

am i some sort of hypocrite i ask myself? am i a liar when i feel pure? if i love the way you throw me on the bed and hold me down, if i love the curses that come whispering out of my lips when we reach the top, if i caress the bruises left behind when i shower am i less good than i thought i was when i thought that i was innocent?

smiling up at the silver horizon i thank God for daisy chains and daydreams, i thank God that i have sweet lips and a wicked tongue, i thank Him for my halo and the fact that it's a little bit bent.