Receipts

The lies spread out 
Rooted deep upholding 
A strong, strong tree/ Planted
Years in advance
In a spring I slumbered through
A summer I was blind to/ O
How the lies they flourished 
In the face of trustful sleep 

But O Farmer, Farmer
Farmer of lies/ Did you think
Trespassing would be so easy 
For the dogs slept summer's heat 
Away In the house/ Sheltered quiet 
And sated/ But you have wakened them 

Now they chafe 
At chains unseen/ Torn 'twixt
Duty and red mists descending 
Howling their fury 
Under a watchful moon
They chafe and bide 

O Weaver, Weaver
Weaver of lies 
Your tapestry is poor
Its colours washed out
Frayed threads praying
That the world may never 
Take one step closer 

They'd see your tales 
Sport broken spines 
They'd know the jelly
Like ooze of scum beneath 

O Mason, Mason
Builder of castles 
Of Deception suspended 
Amongst the clouds/ Don't you see 
Your work hurtle 
To the ground/ A ball 
Of molten derision headed 
For utter catastrophe

For I hold all the receipts 
The notes on your work 
In time will the wolves 
To your door sporting bills 
Payment is due/ The arms 
Of vengeance are long
My sight is clear/ Your work 
Speaks for yourself

For you
Have become 
Your own Undoing