I love to lie, I’m sorry.
It’s immoral, but I won’t change it.
My lies; they make me, me.
That’s the truth.

My life is a lie, and lies are fake,
But I am real because I lie.
Why else?

My lies, they work.
People believe.
They believe I am just like them.

And I am. I’m the same,
As long as anyone’s asking.
I’m the same because I am real,
With my entirely fake, fake lies.

This sameness makes me,
Normal.
That’s all I want to be,
Just normal.

So I lie, and I lie, and I lie.
I lie until I cry. It’s hard,
I’m deceiving,
But these people keep believing.

My life, an immoral act,
It’s a fact, I’m committing a crime.
And I want to tell, but no one knows.
To expose myself is to ruin myself.
But I must clear my conscience
If I’m ever to save myself.

I’m writing to you as an outlet.
This way, I won’t lose it.

To be truthful, I never had it.
I was born without it.

But that’s a lie, I was normal once.
Naturally normal, really normal.
Now I fit in because I am fake.

But the fact that I’m fake,
That’s why I’m real,
For a real person never lives
Without telling a lie.