Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Hidden Up My Sleeves

There must be extra guts, and not arms, hidden up my sleeves,
To have said the things I said, to have you actually believe
That I'd found religion, changed my mind, abandoned cynicism,
That my personality had abdicated as though forced by exorcism,
and, the thickest gall, that this all had been for you.
To be that convincing I almost think I must believe it too.

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