When you talk, I listen. My ears are keen-
not for what you say, but for what the lies may mean.
If you look away when those around you are hurt, I bend for my
chisel and pick it up from the dirt,
And for every evil you do I cut one more line
across the face of a rock at the end of time.
To make all clean and clear, I tap on your tombstone,
lest moss take all our names when Old Mortality's gone.
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