what's the use of confessing the truth
to an executioner in a booth
about the dueling forces in you
now you barely remember your youth
you used to embrace the eerie and helm
visitations from spirit realms
gifted to see between astral planes now you plead to be plain
the minute you mitigate your fire
the innocence of carnal desire
and it's true that the truth gives you free
but when truth is a breech of decree
dying for praise from a gallery
and they tie all their stones to your name
and they cripple your bones with their shame
honesty is the most moral way