What is love, but deceit
If not forced, then faked
Clay molded into a rose
Then why not live the lie?
Smell the sweet perfume of mud
So that fib may take form
The earth transformed
Death into life
Oh loves great strength is in it's seeming truth
That she may think I trust,
and I pretend to know her faith
So I shall yell it from the mountains
"Love is fake, a fiendish impostor!"
and I shall whisper to the wind, "but that's ok."