Your LIES are like warm melted butter,
Exiting gracefully from your perfect lips
Smooth golden liquid, bad for my heart.

You weave stories with finely spun fibers of half truths,
Intricately and expertly arranged in mandalas of deception.

Unaffected by the goings on of your immediate externalities;
Living in your conjured up paradise
Where you reign as ******* king and ****** queen
Plucking petals off your submissive sunflowers