Wonderful, Beautiful, Awful boy.
Spill from your lips only lies
With a smile and silver tongue
You slowly make me come undone
Unravel me with honeyed words
And dark deceit that settles deep
And grows from planted horrid seed
Into tall and looming tree
Roots so old and so far down
That nothing can wrench it from the ground
Plant in me a little lie
To save your self from branches high,
Of your own sapling of untruth.
The ancient bark stands so high
Your lies they almost touch the sky
They cut the blue and orange hues,
and prick the clouds as they float by.
To bring the rain that waters down,
and keeps the ugliness alive.
Tell me now and tell me true
If these warped words mean more to you
Than I or any other truth?
Would you hack and cut it down?
Would you fell it to the ground?
Would you speak and say aloud,
the words you've never given sound.
No, the scene remains the same.
No new song writ on pages wrought
from your old wizened shame.
Just branches of a tall, tall, tree that provide some selfish shade.