| Truth Which version would you like? One makes me a criminal The other makes you an idiot, but Which is the truth? You can't make up your mind. I've made up mine. See, I don't see the truth Flexible like a Slinky toy Walk it where you wish, It will conform its shape To whatever path you choose to use. My truth is not twisted mass of chaotic confusion that bends and moves Stretches when necessary But is never quite able to take its orginal form That's not my truth My truth is not the Slinky wire, but the lead pipe Hard, unbending Forcing its bearer to work within and around it Because he can not change it. Capable of beating you 'Til you're black and blue, and your head aches Under the weight of it. That's my truth. I wield it wisely, lest I bruise And I will not bear its weight for you And I will not bear its weight for you. |