Some believe your story, but it's your story. So sweet and innocent, the damsel in distress. Oh how many weep for the devil in the dress. Sell your story to world, sell it to the press. Tell it all to who would listen because you tell it the best. Oh let them listen, let them wipe the tears from your eyes, oh woe to you, the devil in disguise. Oh you are a great author, the author of lies. The wolf in sheep's clothing, let them open their ears to hear your cries. Men will flee from your presence if they were wise. But they will fall for you head first, to snuggle between your thighs. Your truth is untruth, but they believe, yet they can't see, the falsehood in who you say you be. But I rely on truth as you lie on me. You are imprison by lies, so the truth could never set you free. Tell your story to everyone else. But if it's so true let's stand before your following, and let me defend myself. I listen to all the stories, of the things you said you been through. You fooled me so I guess you will fool them to. You're the devil in the the dress. Those men don't know the hell you will take them through. Oh you seem so sweet, and appear to shine and glitter. And you can't find happiness because you are so insecure and bitter. If the the devil has children you're the pick of the litter. You are all image, that's the truth of the matter. When hit with the truth you are so easily shattered. Tell your story, Tell your story talking. Tell your story to another man. So tell your story walking. I am still standing. I am still alive. Although you tried to destroy me, with your story, and hatred rumors and lies. If I am not telling the truth, tell your truth as you stand before God and I bet you can't look in his eyes. Your story is one of deception. And your head is filled with false perceptions. Oh woe is me oh woe is me. Your story is full of lies, as you cry for sympathy. The truth is I loved you but you never had none for me. The truth is what you say what I done to you, you have done to me. Your story is for your protection. Your next writing should be about self projection. Because your writings is no deeper than your complextion. I rebuke you in all your self glory. I find you never was real, you were just a story.