Lie

You're so fucking good at what you do.
Lying to everyone around you.
No matter if they're important or not,
You bind your friendships with a lying knot.

As if you're not proud of your life,
What you're doing, or your fatass wife.
You make up how you wish it could be,
To tell everyone you're make-believe story.

Let them think you're on top of the game,
Managing at work, or struggling, to you it's the same.
As if we've actually made a break though in our plans,
And we've already started paying off our van.

So now everyone thinks you've finally gotten ahead,
By yourself, without your wife, fat, ugly, and somewhat dead.
Something tells me you still lie to her, too.
You're so fucking good at it; I know you.

Telling her you're not a good liar, you're so sly.
Because, unfortunately, that, also, was a damn good lie.
Everyone else around should be cautious, too.
They all, just might, hear only lies from you.