Aren't we both fools,sifting for truth in rivers of fantasy?Wanting but never embracing,waiting but never forthcoming,lips stubbornly silentyet rhymes evermore proclaiming.As if denying what’s whatwould expedite respite from this pain.So I’ll weave a fib and if you’ll promiseto believe my myth,to it I’ll affix another spin.
And together we'll keephating our cruel impersonationsso deliberately conceived,on and on ridingthis counterfeit carousel.Till there is left nothing of me anymore to give,having gone to bed with your last thoughtmorphing into uneven dreamsWaking up like we have lived together lifetimes,I'll lay the blame on your doorstep, still,
vociferously declaring that the truth isthis 'we' was never there to begin with.
And you, as usual, will cut my heartinto million pieceswith your treacherous ink.
Until, tired, battered and, through with us,Love will be done.Here is hoping that our lies will exorcizethis wretched demon...