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All these thoughts held behind our eyes,
veiled by our great disguise.
Laughter and smiles and great big grins.

So no one can tell that something's amiss.
Behind these lies are a thousand more.
Just to keep from opening a sore.
A sore thought long gone and healed,

Now reopened; more troubles revealed.

Just keep up the pretence;
It's easier to pretend than to tell.
Once it's over you'll forget this Hell.