I thought I was deep Deep enough to write this whole. When did I become the one Who was sharp? They told me to think But what did they mean? I die, seconds to minutes, Minutes to hours, Thousands to millions of times a day, Thinking over every word I say. Now I understand: What matters is the honey-sweet tongue, Telling them what they want to hear. What matters is not the truth But the way, and then they... I wondered for a while. Now it’s alright. I tell them what they want to hear, And suffocate Just enough to still be fine.