My twisted tongue speaks words less than wise
But it is enchanted with loves sound
An escape artists hands
The memory of forgotten love
It knows not how to speak the full truth
And it cant tell an entire lie
That the words I speak leave existence to die
That creation was a toy of the mind so we must play with it
Taking ostracized thoughts and bring them back home
Take no moment of deepest secret thought
Of the most sacred of intentions
Leave none unmade and let all be known
There's a reason that ink cannot be easily unwritten
It is the will of creation that what has been made
Not be unmade