In the filth of my lies, I lay my head,
Fear my constant care…
Bleed the gut, still no red,
That red is not what you see…
Tell myself, something will arrive,
To break the spell, to stop the lie…
Truth be told, or can I say,
In my filth of lies, I lay…
Not by words, not by actions,
Both by these and twisted promises…
Never the truth always a lie,
In good or bad, I embrace it all…
My body craves, and my spirit bleeds,
My feeble heart, my body it feeds…
Simple pleasures, painful wounds,
Of lust and fear, of pain and anguish…
I bleed for sure, as I see my spirit die,
The truth of a liar, is never a lie.
