Suspect
You call me suspect As if there were anything criminal about my love
I’d be the first to admit it I was at the scene of the crime Leaving evidence behind on chapped lips and discarded jackets No caution could have warned me about the shit show that was my mother The night I missed my curfew after being out with some girl If I am the number 1 suspect She is merely my accomplice
I swear I would have turned myself in
But some days it already feels like I’m in a cell Where the walls are made up of “You’re just making things harder for yourself” “This isn’t something we do” The key to letting me out is you understanding that this is not a choice But even if it were I wouldn’t trade away this life of crime for your love
Because your love is putting in a box I could never call home Your love is putting me on trial Your love is ignoring a key piece of evidence just to get the conviction So no I won’t trade this life away for your love
Because when she and I are on the lam together It feels free-er than any cell you could put me in Holier than any saving grace you could give me
I swear I’m an honest person I would have turned myself in But this crime It carries a sentence that I just can’t bear yet
So call me a runaway Call me a problem-child Call me disagreeable Or temperamental But don’t you call me suspect As if there were anything criminal about my love
- M.C. Mont 9.1.17
