They believe I can’t see it
Their twisted smiles
Saliva dripping from their self-trained tongues
Speaking in their fluent language of Lies
Eyes coated in Sin
(Vanity, the most precious of them all)
Planting the seed of Paranoia inside unfortunate minds
Backward promises; they often vowel
A game of souls; they love to play
There’s no escape from this life of ours
No restart button I’m afraid
No rewriting pages already written
Oh, my poor sweet child-
How I weep for you-
I sincerely do-
To be born into this realm of misery
Nothing is what it seems
Everything what that is
Is not
Welcome to a cynical world, darling