He tells tales interwoven with lies
He’s kept in his head for years
If you call him on any of it
It reduces the man to tears.

A gloomy day he met his match
In a battle of wits and charmed regale
It wasn’t the noblest thing to do
Especially when one would fail.

He rather liked talking in riddles
Not quite getting to the point
The promise of ten minutes was fine
Because he’d just hate to disappoint.

His pointed hat or dime store shoes
I couldn’t decide which was cheesier
When it got hard, things weren’t clear
Walking away was always easier.

That way he never turned around
To see any of the pain
He would always say he cared
Except in the rain.

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