All I have to do is open my ears and that sweet Southern honey starts pouring in, that sticky stream of saccharine with the power to turn lies true and cold to heat,
and at every whisper I know I should be shouting no but I shudder yes,
yes if it means I am beautiful,
yes if it means I am lovable,
yes if it means that my soul is clean and my body well made,
yes if it means my secrets stay secret and my, my, my, my bed stays well slept in, although there is some truth to the old line that there is no rest for the wicked.
But if you sleep solemnly next to me and my bitter heart has to close up a little more but in the meantime, my lies are still hidden between the sheets, well, I won't worry if you don't.