Truth Deficient

I don't know what to make of this,
the show you like to put on,
pretending to be something else
than the one thing you are good for.

You stretch the truth with such skill
it's hard to find the edges,
or signs that give you up until
your skyscraper collapses.

You build your lies with little truths
you've morphed into submission
making it hard to find the clues
beyond all recognition.

And in your darkest moments
you're the blind leading the lame
you're your own worst oponent
but you delegate the blame.

It's hard to be responsible
for all your past mistakes
when everyone's disponible
to hide the truth away.

And in the end you'll find the flaw
in your illusion's grand design
that you can't reverse your own law
when you're feeling so inclined.

The Shore

So it's come to this again

the rain is pouring

on the earth where I stand.

I'm still just myself

And I know, I'm sure

you know what I mean,

I feel like the writing in the sand.

Every wave that hits me

is your words undisguised.

You just keep me busy

and it's not advised

that I see that dark note in your eyes.

It makes me dizzy.

I feel like,

yes I feel like,

I feel like the writing in the sand.

Made of art by a steady hand

but fading

on this earth where I stand

and the earth is shaking.

I feel like the writing in the sand

I'm slipping away,

I can't pretend

that I don't feel,

yes I feel like,

I feel like the writing in the sand.