Is it true that you can change the truth?
Or is it another thing I'm making up?

Because that didn’t happen, in fact
I saw what happened and I sat front row while I made your nose bleed
So can we cut to the chase?
And cease the prevarication that I do not need

Either admit it to me
Or omit and outwit this bullshit excuse for some fabrications

I'm an amateur tailor
I’ve sewn a mask, and now I am left with

Ambiguous thoughts and evasive actions
How can I speak if I’m a master of retraction?
How can I function in a world of distraction?
It makes it so easy to eschew

And I can’t stitch my mouth shut
It must be another thing I’m making up

Because I’m a voyeur of disaster and I am
The antithesis of anxiety, climbing the steps on the ladder of deceit
I get chased around and am asked to cut it out
The lies I tell myself