They told me you were paranoid;
I swore it wasn’t true
but they showed me reams of data.
There was nothing I could do.

They’ve been on your tail for hours
after days and weeks and years.
They’ve denied all good intentions.
They confirmed your every fear.

The conspiracy is real, they said.
Your enemies are in queue
each waiting their turn to strike.
They’ve got it in for you.

It’s rough, I know, what with their plans,
that soon they’ll have you dead,
but if you could, before that day,
don’t let them know I said?