Nocturne
Tell me all things false are true,Bitter sweet, that fools are wise;I will not doubt nor question you;I am in a mood for lies.
Tell me all things ill turn good;Thew and sinew will be strongerThriving on the deadly foodLife proffers for their hunger.
Paint love lovely, if you will;Be crafty, sly, deceptive;Here is fertile land to till,Sun-seeking, rain-receptive.
Hold my hand and lie to me;I will not ask you How nor Why;I see death drawing nigh to meOut of the corner of my eye.