Lies of the Lamb

The lamb, a childhood consort, has lied to me
She's sung songs that she cannot claim
She's sung of blue rivers, of green leas
Of bright suns and pleasant rain

The lamb, she's told me stories
Stories of innocence, of fair play
She's told me of a childhood with no worries
Of days spent grazing, of hours spent gay

But now the lamb is no longer a lamb,
She's a full-grown sheep, with a head of wool;
Though now everything she's ever said has convulsed into a sham
It's me who feels the naïve fool

Once my friend and now no more
She looks at me with saddened eyes
I look back with wisdom I ne'er had before
The sheep is to be slaughtered along with her lies