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