Who is this who lies in my bed,
That I don't even know?
Who's so messed up within his head,
With nowhere else to go?

Feeding me breakfast poisoned with dreams,
And singing me hope to sleep?
Who then lies awake concocting schemes,
For with my soul to keep?

A master and a villain he be,
Behind an angel's eyes.
Yet he's the fool...it is not me,
I see through his disguise.

You see perception blessed me thrice,
And now I am full aware.
Fool me once, fool me twice,
But again? You best beware!

For I can also lace the truth,
To cut you down to size;
Use your deceit as my reproof,
And justify the lies.

But use my pillow - I'll play the role,
And take my portion double.
Before I snip your twisted soul,
"My pleasure..it's no trouble."