We tell others that we desire to know truth
Yet in private conversations, we will lie
Whether it is to get out of trouble
Or to agrandize
Or to slay another's character
We say we long for peace as we prepare for war
The finest vintage of the harvest is lost
When in battle the flower of our youth die
We despise the vanity in others
And desire to be, to possess, to know beauty
So much so it creates lust
A powerful urge
And we lie, we wear the disguise
None of us are transparent or nude
We are pregnant with contradictions
Found between perceptions and reality
Between accusations and proof
To aspire is not wrong
To acknowledge flaw is in fact good
We ignore the ultimate fact
When traveling alone men get lost
They won't seek directions, they don't want to ask
Women think men don't like to talk at all
All genders have access to telephones
Men just wish they weren't required to make the call
We are confused
But perhaps we'll find our way
Or someday we'll disappear
When the gods grow bored of us
Our foolish ways
Our meek being
And then create new but different children
From some kind of magnificent clay
We must slay the serpent
It is the father of lies
But will we?
Will we?
