Our mistakes are scrawled upon the chalkboard They're scribed across stained glass They're posted on the billboards A lackluster charade And are we so naive to concede these forefathers? Apparently we are
Well, apparently it's true There's no slot machines past the pearly gates Why do we kid ourselves? We grow old and wise We just lose our minds
The dinner is a hit The guests are full of spirits They gather around the husband He's versed in party tricks The wife is in the bedroom Smearing her makeup, makeup, make it up But she's got a lover on the side Motels, cheap wine She says "You can't base love off the pity fuck, unless they've got a lot of money."
'Cause it's the games that we play 'Cause we need to exist We're not humans, we're citizens It's the one on the ground With his hands on his heart It's the cleavage of division It's all jagged and jaded But it suits us We just fake it through