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