Rumors

It starts with ignorant opinions muttered under your breath

But when reality’s the contrary, you’re blind and you’re deaf

Got your own take, I’ll call you “Miss Interpretations”

Don’t see the problems with spreading misinformation

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, such a good puppeteer

And curtains close if I say something you don’t want him to hear

Such a philosopher, you think you’re fucking Socrates

But still you have the nerve to call me a tease

You’re hearing what I say in a whisper through the walls

My conversation hearts with the text dulled