Innocence is as pure as true love
As clean as a dove
As heavenly as fondue
A far cry from untrue
Innocence is the sound of the wind through the trees
But I sometimes wonder
Is it always what it seems?
Or is it not?
My love always said
It is what the eye sees and the mind believes
It is simply a game of hidden lies and pretty eyes.
It is a disguise for the guilty
A shield for the weak
Something rather oblique
A reason to deny
Innocence is nothing but a pure flawless lie