Little white lies sewn deep
into our fairytale bedsheets
woven with love to protect
or in convenience to misdirect

Yet like weeds they've taken root
and form the ideas that follow suit
From our cribs these fibs are part of all
like the air we breathe and leaves that fall

So in jest we trick for fun
It's normal to each and everyone
We expect and accept and explain it away
as just a consequence of living these days

Deeply these secrets ravage the world around
and we feel helpless to utter a sound
Yet someday it will come crashing down
in a pile of lies to which we've been bound