When you lied to me, I told myself that it was story time. I closed my eyes to see the life that you described. It seems I closed my mouth to speak: not something that I lingered on. I believed you enough to play along.
But I'm smarter now, at least enough to look around the room and know the sucker's probably me if I'm sure it isn't you. And so tonight I finally get that something here is very wrong. Don't try your lines on me. In the morning I'll be gone.