Forgiveness Comes Last

I want your forgiveness to come last: You often go back to a sin too fast. I could you with soldiers grenades blast And later pained flag fly at half mast, Even as onlookers are aghast; Of the sorry news try to broadcast; My guilt and worries soonest cast aside... your benefactors you leave red-eyed As though they had for days on end cried Or in public staked and lost their pride Or spent and spent and up pockets dried.