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I know it's late, but I can't sleep, there are doubts dashing across my pillow. Tell me a lie, so I can relax. "It's all going to be ok"; tell me that one.

Feed it to me ever so gently, because reality will hurt, tomorrow will come crashing down on me, and tonight I don't want to think. Please, tell me another lie, so I can rest.

I'm so tired of having to process the data I'm being fed, so sick of sorting and storing. Hand me a tall glass of clear, cold lies; let me swallow reality and embrace the present, suspend a moment and die for the night.

Tell me one more lie, love, and then I'll be able to sleep.