Your.

I hate your cunningness
It feels like every gift you give
Has hidden purposes, only for you to win
As you present perspectives of good fortune
A future free of troubles
Be thankful, open up
Reveal and give much in return
Afterwards you try to buy his soul
His freedom of tounge
And push him towards hellfire
Burn!

Who says his word never breaks,
But takes back all given promises
And keep on depressing acquaintances
With hopes taken back
If over-sensitive ears
Perceive a revealing attack
Rely upon persons no more
Whom with golden promises makes people work