We are pretentious lyricists and ambiguous liars.

 Portraying actuality as it would be if it’s begging for accolade.

We sugarcoat, we deliver pleasantries

Making a mockery of what is genuinely there.

The truth however is never self-adorning

It need not to be made a make-believe.

It’s surreal but never imaginary.

Its simplicity is never understood without difficulty,

Yet its appalling honesty is sufficiently adequate.