I sense a bit of distrust quite dense,

In those big dimples of yours,

Your eyes tell that your lies fail,

Your life folds like an unfinished myth that's told.

Your agenda changes as your word hinges,

And the pride intensifies as a shadow mystifies.

You only care for what you bear,

While your despair won't ever find repair.

You let go of your crown to put on a wig,

So you can fit in the places you've never been.

You've trusted nobody to your defence,

And now you fear betrayal you've already seen.

Such a faker; your eyes won't close,

You will lie to lie forever more.

And a beacon of hope tightens that rope

That your leg is tied to, which you try to cut off.