The best witness in the land.

“Hear ye, hear ye— on this fine day we’ve gathered to see to it that this mystical woman be tested and tried under the Court of the Shire, an account of the charge of witchcraft! And rest assured we have nothing but the best witness in the land— a man!”

I remember when Sunday School

deflected my question.

I hadn’t realized then

that life’s one big reflection.

I’ve seen it my whole life,

I’ve come to know those eyes.

What’s it they say? —

Real eyes realize real lies?

Swam with the sharks and you called me unstable,

knowing all well that’s a burning-stake fatale.

My small voice contested,

“It’s a fucking fake label!”

Shit— is that why they call it a fable?

I’m the kettle, baby you’re the pot.

Sought, caught, mocked, shocked.

You hate me ‘cause I can’t be bought.

You tried to say you were sorry,

but you’d never say it to the jury.

Sung my siren song

called in seven of those Kevins.

I rode all my waves,

it was mistook for aggression.

They always ask me if it hurt

when I fell from heaven.

But what they don’t know is—

there’s a river in hell babe,

and upstream I swam.

Swam with the sharks and you called me unstable,

knowing all well that’s a burning-stake fatale.

My small voice contested,

“It’s a fucking fake label!”

Shit— is that why they call it a fable?

I’m the kettle, baby you’re the pot.

Sought, caught, mocked, shocked.

You hate me ‘cause I can’t be bought.

You tried to say you were sorry,

but you’d never say it to the jury.