So much guilt
it gathers like silt
what a tangeled web we weave
when we start to decieve
a small lie at first
then the dam doth burst
soon you tell another
to a son or mother
and yet more you tell
on your private path to hell
nothing any more is true
there is nothing left that's you
your whole life has become a lie
from now until the day you die
from now
until the day you die