Womanizer

I like to think that I’m the better kind of man.  
I like to think that I already kinda am.  
I know I’m not. Hell, not by a long shot.  
I pretend I am so I don’t end up single again.  

What is this dance I can’t seem to get out of?  
I act so dense, got no plans to be proud of.  
Leaving a trail of lost interests that cost many  
women to leave their spouse for some dude on the internet.  
 
It’s an addiction.  
 
Breaking up families goes way too smooth.  
Zero friction.  
 
I’m the devil’s worst prediction.  
 
 
I wish I knew what the proper way to act is.  
I wish I knew what I should do to correct this.  
I’m convinced I’m not half the man I think I am.  
I think I jinxed whatever path I was set out to plan.  
 
When I get bored I just tell her that I hate her.  
Zero effort. Zero feelings. Less than a terminator.  
When I get bored again I’ll probably call her up and meet her by the door again  
so I can follow up on empty promises and fuck her on the floor again.  
 
Sometimes even I amaze me.  
Rhyming the same word three times? Man, so lazy.  
Go hate me.  
See if I care. Open up my chest and see if the hardest working muscle’s even there.  
To be fair, it’s been passed around many times so I’m afraid the beating  
is the same as the flesh it consists of. Rare.  
 
Womanizer in the many eyes that realize their luck isn’t even on a pair of dice.  
Womanizer in the hearts of many filled with lies that can’t seem to find the comfy way to paradise.  
 
Don’t push your luck in too many ways.  
 
No worries, the devil controls my luck these days.