I don’t know why I have such anger
Such pointless, bitter rage
Some poor soul may be in danger
If I’m ever more than just a turning page
I too have heard the well-worn stories
And cried fire for the witch
Well-forgotten all the glories
A mere moment for the switch
And so I dread the inevitability
Of my place upon the pyre
The inadvertent victim of my villainy
Perceiving just another burning liar.