theres a million different liars
whisper deceit into your ears
through these pathwayss of insanity
where deceivers ply there fears
to kill of joy or happiness
from the minds who have not got
the wit or yet intelligence
to see beyond half cocked
through these trials and tribulations
through adversity and pain
where the scars that life does leave
are dark as some blood stain
the end game is still far from here
the future dark the path not clear
the power thats within is the mouth of foulest slander
begone foul goose from the home of this clear gander
you cannot tell the difference betwen mismanagement and cheats
you back the hand of evil that speaks its dark deceits
begone foul crone, i say of you
go whence unto your lair
you might find i think perhaps
a better welcome there