Sick and filthy from digging my own grave. Eight feet under there is no trust, there is no blame. All is silent. This circle is a noose, drawing tighter now. The knife is in my hand, at my throat until I drown in my loathing. Liar, liar, destroyer, defier. Liar, liar, betrayer, denier. So drag me to the hill, and tie that pretty noose tighter round my neck till I've outlived my use. All is dread. You may have them fooled, but when you smile I can see your fangs. I can see them and I want to rip them out of your head. Liar, liar, destroyer, defier. Liar, I am liar, betrayer, denier.

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