You call yourself a friend, But I must be the exception That proves the rule, That begs the question, Can you open your mouth And make a confession? I don't mean a worm, Just to snag your attention. Betrayed again, Judas blues. Should I lionize myself, And rake in the contempt, Try to chastise you For not keeping me exempt From all of these joys Of the usual blend, Mainly self-pity, self-hate and big syringe. Hang in there, Jesus blues.