Our mistakes are scrawled upon the chalkboardThey re scribed across stained glassThey re posted on the billboardsA lackluster charadeAnd are we so naive to concede these forefathers?Apparently we areWellapparently it s trueThere s no slot machines past the pearly gatesWhy do we kid ourselves?We grow old and wiseWe just lose our mindsThe dinner is a hitThe guests are full of spiritsThey gather around the husbandHe s versed in party tricksThe wife is in the bedroomSmearing her makeupmakeupmake it upBut she s got a lover on the sideMotelscheap wineShe says "You can t base love off the pity fuckunless they ve got a lot of money." Cause it s the games that we play Cause we need to existWe re not humanswe re citizensIt s the one on the groundWith his hands on his heartIt s the cleavage of divisionIt s all jagged and jadedBut it suits usWe just fake it through

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