I try so hard to recall the location of that time:
I was lost, you were high; something sweet and sublime.
Back when I used to think every look on your face
Was some confirmation of a feeling or a place.
We had playful arguments over theodicy,
With underlying remnants of hypocritical duplicity.

You were lying to me.
You were lying to me.
You were lying to me.

There is no forgiveness for mimicry.

The God you so vehemently professed
With a deceitful heart such as yours would never be impressed.     

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