A turncoat sheds his skin, like autumn leaves,
To don a new coat with many bright hues.
With a mask, and an overcoat for thieves,
For whom or what, when, his deceit may choose.
Once clad in virtue, now as a fraud dressed,
Hiding the old spots of truth frayed, faded,
That once for friends and loyalties professed,
Now remain as scars,...
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