Then this shall be my lot. a head filled with words absurd, more oft with those of which I've heard

Though I be asked not to speak that you may sway this day
I may have the final word and say
that

I have been spoken to not to speak,

And in response to that clouded mind
I to say to thee that does coerce

What gain befalls you to design that I refrain,
would not the audience see the blame be thine
Tarnished now as the villain wouldst thou may be further shrouded with disdain

Though I may otherwise converse this be yet another written verse.

How absurd that speaker is, when it is the wish the audience to dismiss.
What sense is there in a design to tell another this, without rhyme,
nor reason can I see how this would harm their stance
or interfere with such reticence to dance.

Where cometh this thought that I should be concerned?
I'm told

Born as child I shall fall from such little grace I hold.

Whilst wrapped warmly in my bed, some fear inside has said

should I not speak so to dig myself from guilt,

then thinking more

yet wouldst that not justly cover me deeper, up to the hilt.

Not I I cry yo needy womb I shall speak wherebe there room
no matter that you consequent to stifle my intelligence. Herein lies the difference
I do not yearn inheritance.
Though nepotism does demand it's perceived lot
my limited love shall not be blinded by the blood and deny my need to feed those that flock.
Though they be angels crows or swine yea e'n flowers that reflect divine
the love they want was never mine.

*** From the conversations in my head that quietly take me to my bed ***

Yet then I wake again to ease into this consumer pain so

[G]If I should speak another [Am]day
take note that what I [G]say
may all be [Am]lies, it's true,
designed to [G]comfort you.

And when I [Am]die some day
[^8]I hope you're far [G]away
and know the love you [Am]saw in me
[B7/E]was just one of your [Em]fantasies

And then to sleep but not so deep
that I must rise again and face the shame

Well it looks like I'm still here
death had me at zero this year:
though no doubt a time will come
and I'll be number one

Then there'll be no more lies to sell
and only truth will come tell
me of the mess I've made
as I slowly die and degrade.