His lies were quite unimportant lies
When he was shot and killed outside.
Who saw it happen admits no argument
concerning the notion of fate.

He couldn't help himself.
For men are born for games:

Players.

The pressures were enormous
Like if the chopper that took him away
Had landed across his chest and throat.
In this way he lost everything.
He tried not to cry
though he knew better.
The other girls aren’t much good.
At least, there would be no missing her now
It was a lie both ways.
Lovers and their happy ends,
An imaginary being,
As though remembered from a dream.

But nothing was ever as one imagined it.