Sitting here I symbolize the things that float around the flies, their size,

 has no meaning, Oh and how the lies fly around my throat and to the sky, their size has a meaning,

I hardly lie for revenge, but sometimes I bump my head and, forget, myself in time, oh how a lie may flow, along with my woes, stowed in my heart,

the words do not lie, their meaning is fine, their meaning shines, but it's the person who lies, 

the one who lies deserves no better, I sent things over letters, those are forgotten, those are lined, with the things I used to feel forever enshrined, 

sign me away to the floor, oh what my mind has in store, shall I lie before I die? Is my revenge all for the best? Is it me, or is it wrong? 

I have yet to know if I'm truly strong, must I ask one of a simpler mind? Will the objective view enlighten my mind? 

Sign me away to the world, break my chains, let me soar, work for humanity, work for a lore, one that tells me what I have in store,

how the face sirs idly by, is it waiting or thinking, or does it cry? All I know is I don't understand, but as a man my mind refuses to land,

i must find out I must see, but the question I ask is there interest in me? Or is it a siren that I see? How it's words mesmerize me, 

are they lies or are they truth? Why can't you be straightforward too? So little one I ask of you what do you think? Is it a siren that's mesmerized me? 

Or is it a love that I can't see? Or am I a fool as blind as can be?