master of disguise

She is skillful at deceiving. No one even has a clue. Her pretty words are weaving Throughout the souls of me and you, But in the late parts of the evening, When her mind is way past due, The skin of hers starts bleeding And her act becomes askew. Her eyes are actually pleading, Saying her words aren't always true, And her heart is really needing Life to begin anew. So if at night you see her sneaking, Hold her till the morning's hue, Because her heart is barely beating, And she doesn't know if she'll make it through.