I can see through you or, so I think.
Your disguise is so slick I can’t tell if your skin is thin or thick.
Your swagger is so majestic I cannot tell if its glossy lipstick.
When I turn the keys inside your heart I’m not sure where I am or where to start.
It’s a hall with many doors.
If I choose the wrong one, we could go off course.
The doors are slowly opening one by one.
But how many are there in this hall of bones.
When one door opens there’s another one behind it.
You can only see the truth when you find it.
So how do I know which door to pursue?
And do I really want to know?
Which secret really holds the crown?
How many do you possess?
I firmly seek hollow ground, so we can rest.