Infatuation with Fabrication
Did I tell you that I'm dying?
If I did I was surely lying.
For you see, I seem
To have a certain thing
For falsifying, Or perjurizing.
I just can't help preveracating
For I always seem to be misstating.
I guess that you could say,
that I have a certain infatuation
With an impulsive fabrication.
A carpenter did one time state,
"I varnish what it is I have to say."
To polish your words is not all bad,
But I seem to have glossed
every word I've ever said.
This fibbing must end,
For it tends to offend.
So, I guess I should stop lying.
But then again,
"Did I tell you that I'm dying?"
Relive it again
What will happen then?
Life is so backwards
I sleep when I'm awake
I eat when I'm full
And I love when I hate
I smile when I'm sad
I sweat when it's cold
I squint when it's dark
And I say "yes" when it's "no."
I slip when it's dry
Slow down when I'm late
Say "Hello" when I'm leaving
And grow younger every day
I live life counterclockwise
I lose when I'm winning
Born at the end of time
I'll probably die at the beginning
Oh the harshness of the winter day
Without it I would not mind
But the spring with its glorious shine
Would undo my very close tie
With a possession that is most divine
The possession of my earthly life
Yet, I will live on with you
After the sacrifice has been made
And the place that I will live
Will be one that is so very safe
With its eternal shine and eternal life
I know that my heaven awaits