Since Nineteen Eighty-Four

At first, he said he never told a lie,
Then he confessed that there were two or three,
Then told us he's been lying constantly
Since nineteen eighty-four, just to get by.
He got away with it, since he was sly
And hid his anger and inconstancy
Behind a mask of deep serenity,
Pretending he was just a Belgian spy.

The truth was almost certain to emerge,
So he was always ready with a plan
To deal with all his friends' dismay: he ran.
He left a note explaining that the urge
Was irresistible, it was the scourge
Of his sad life. He was an evil man.