Spot The Imposter

“It’s a fun little dance
The handlers wanna cry out “slander”
But they’ve already slung headlines that
I’m not fit to qualify for such things
Just fit for the slaughter
So they got you to cry out and thrash for them.

Not much left to do when
They’ve already got you convinced
That naming the atrocities
Is the only
True crime.

Now they’re the victims
I’m the bad guy
For saying such horrid things publicly
The things they did in secret.
A hush over the crowd drowns their own screaming secrets.
You’ll do anything to keep it from getting out and dragging you down with it
You’ll do it without knowing what it is, too.
It’s just how it works,
Nobody knows who they work for.

Spot the imposter
They get to play the target
I never get a break
For them, it’s a cover.
For me, it’s a burial.”