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