a scoundrel seeks to settle down

I crave
I crave
I crave such love
the likes of which good mary gave
to that boy percy,
despite that bitch-ass, punk-ass knave
being so unworthy.

I need 
I need 
I need the flame 
To burn through all my guilt and shame 
And grant me mercy, 
While I run wild and seek acclaim 
In controversy.

I want 
I want 
I want the wife 
Who cuts the rot out with a knife 
But keeps the heart, 
And saves my chaotic, messy life 
For art.