Lies spread like a plague
At the end truth is dead

Not every tongue tells you the truth
Not every ear understands the right
Some words muted missunderstood
A sentence turns to lie

Twaddle Remour
We don't know what we really are
Waering costumes to be someone else
We just hide our inner self

We hide our faces in the back off masks
We where costumes to be someone else
Someone else we'd like to be

It takes its roots
Deep in the earth of words
Put them in a wrong order
to make it grow

In summer in its foliation
Leaves shine in a bright green
And just like autumn
Truth colours them brown
Blow them to the ground

I take my saw and saw it down
Before you saw the leaves coloured brown
Cause I despise this rightous law advocates
As well as ejaculations to a fertile ground
As our population