Look real close.

If you looked close,

(real close)

you could see little lace-y, trace-y lines,

blooming webs spanning a face,

tracking the tread marks of lies, strains,

smiles and surprises,

all leaving footprints
after coming around often enough.

My eyes can only see what left a mark,

soap washes away the fingerprints of today.

You open your mouth and there-- there I see it.

The lie. It’s behind the sides of your smile,

peeking out like so.

Lies twitch, and so do you;

you're staring me straight in the eye, you're that good

and I'm waiting for you to put the finishing touches

on all this, 
and there you go,

singing sweet words and absolute promises...

both of us know that next week,

maybe the week after next
i'll find the lie
again.