pants on fire

I lie to my family, I lie to my friends
I lie to my co-workers, I lie without end

I lie to my doctor, and say I’ve been good
I tell him I exercise and eat better food

I lie to my wife if I say where I’ve been
she doesn’t need to know who, where, or when

I lie to my mom when I tell her I’ll call
sometime soon, maybe next fall

I lied to the bank; the check’s not in the mail
I lied to my shrink; another tall tale.
I lied to the waitress; my food wasn’t good
I lied to my boss; I’d punch him if I could

so many stories, so many lies
they’ll follow me ‘til I’m dead
eventually those lies will catch up to me
like ol’ Fat Albert said

I lie, I fib, I equivocate the same
I prevaricate, I misrepresent
with no sense of impunity or shame
maybe I could be the president

[I wrote this in about an hour, but then again, maybe I’m lying. 2019.]

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