Hate comes in whispers, not angry yells.
Creeping through your nightmares, leaving putrid smells.
And there's a million stories of sordid private lives.
There's an army of skeletons behind a wall of lies.
Keep digging below.
You never know.
Beneath the plush hotels.
Beneath the oyster shells.
Beneath the glamour and grace.
Beneath the satin and lace.