False whispers have led your finger,
To point the blame at everyone but yourself.
How dare I rain on your parade, spoil what you've become.
Admit has held you afraid to say 'I told you so'.
With alcohol to lay you down to sleep.
Pray that your own fault won't come back to haunt you.
Epiphany will watch you weep,
From failure that became true;
Regret will pursue.