Though I am a sinner and a liar

and am evil all across and over,
I'll play decent if the highest buyer
stuffs my closet with a four-leaf clover:
I shoot down sparrows with my black eyelids,
I eat hawks with my saucer-eyed cunning,
and I'll dance with those who were once shy kids
turned magnates hooked into number-one-ing:
But don't you dare flash a real smile at me;
I am ill-equipped to understand it:
the joy, the pain that you confide in me,
the loss of control though I demand it:
So I'll just go shove you in the closet;
your corpse is fresh, so I'll have to lock it.
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