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A Friend or Fiend?

Many a man are a wolf in sheep clothing
Many a friend are nothing but fiends
In morn-tide they wear the broadest grin
And in night time commit the most evil sin
Why should they practice their sorcery on me
And stuck a pin on a voodoo doll
And all my names therein they call
To cast a spell and make me sick
And tie my bones and make me weak
Then in the morning, that brodest grin
That even remains after such a sin
How can you stab me behind my back
Even knowing the room is not dark
Yet that is not what makes me sick
What makes me sick is your smiling beak
That keeps on mocking our so-called friendship

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