Terrible Liar

I’m a holy scriptwriter
I stand behind the curtain

I will know the words
When the world stands to attention

When my speech bends to my will
When I’m know the precise position to fill

I’m the one who’ll know:
Holy, hidden and
All for show

I stand over the choir and
Redeem the difference
I try though sometimes I can only
Feign forgiveness:

Holy, for hire and not for sale
I am easily undone but by then, I’m gone

I’m a lender of lighters
A hangover survivor
I’m a terrible liar

In the shadow of thin-walled
Whitewashed stone fabric
In the city of pre-worn
Torn, pre-bought denim

I am the hand that grasps and longs
And the one left suspended
When all is withdrawn

I’m the crack in the altar
A stone statue waxed over
I’m a kid at the opera

I’m a terrible liar