Some things will always be the things not what we think we see,
honesty lies between deception and his eyes and his eyes are lined
with littered tracts of promises given backed up in a waste pipe,
some things stink to high heaven.

To forgive is divine if forgiveness is mine to give
I'd sooner live knowing the man that I am,
not the sham
not the also ran
not the one on his own or one that makes his own home in another one's shell,
honesty's hell but what would he know?

The **** crows thrice to remind him he ought to think twice before bedding down in the sty, but perhaps he's that kind of guy or that kind of swine, perhaps his forgiveness is mine, in time, time will tell and the deceptions that lie in the pit of his sty will come clean, but woe to the woman who sleeps with the brother of the one she calls lover,
indeed deception is rife in this thing we call life,
some things we see and some things will be
as they are.