Tell It to the Bees

Someone’s draped the hive in black, and no one’s sleeping well tonight
Now that bad news has come
There’s a thing that won’t be said, a truth I’ll hold until the clouds
Finally withdraw
And maybe the lie won’t help the framework to stand
But sometimes evasion is all that’s at hand
I won’t tell a soul
A brilliant space in any case
An opportune «by the way» will help to distract
Weak support collapsing from inside
The floors are sagging but I can keep up the act
I hear the humming from outside
Enough to know what it implies
Someone’s draped the hive in black and no one’s sleeping well tonight
Now that bad news has come
And if the lie won’t hold the present back
And I’m the last one between the tale and the fact
I won’t, I won’t, I won’t tell a soul