it’s like your skiing down a slippery slope without support of poles.

You always try and save yourself

with complete and utter lies

when in actual fact, all you do, is

devise your own demise.

Why d’ya keep on lying,

when I clearly know the truth?

I could be standing holding evidence or unequivocal proof,

yet you’d still be making stories up which you expect me to believe,

and for every confrontation, you’ve a fabrication up your sleeve.

Take that spade and dig that blade

deep into the ground.

This is your past

time; this is the last time,

‘cos you’ll never turn tricks round.

I cannot trust you; I cannot fix you,

I’ve never believed a sound.

So pack your bag, get in your Jag

and never come back around.