Just one seed planted in sour furrows
Will grow upon the soil of mistrust And germinate into such ugly truth
By the misguided or the Machiavellian
Lies fly like bitter arrows about us
And not one is aimed true to the mark
Yet if enough false bolts are fired in deceit
One surely makes its mark upon the facts
To wound its message with confusion
And lies need but one germ of legitimacy
For most to believe its exaggeration
Lies are a complex and subtle deception
For always is a truth hidden within?
