Torn

Someone told me: "I hate compliments, because I'm being lied to."
Don't they see?
You weren't made to be this way.
You weren't made to be carried away.

You where golden to god,
and taken in by man-made fraud.
And the fraud hates humanity.
I don't call him Satan, trust me-
if you knew him like I do,
you'd know there is no name so true.

It is never your fault,
make your heartbreak halt.
Your mind is playing tricks,
just for the fraud's kicks.

Believe me, my dear:
you're now free of fear
You where beautifully born,
and life and love makes you torn.