The smell has gone to their heads
Putrid men not yet dead
the five o’ clock shadow
gets cast upon the soul
all is right and nothings wrong, we must be getting old
Don’t look at me, don’t watch my eyes, lets all laugh loudly instead

Rome didn’t fall in a day
because god rested on Sunday
the shine you see in the mirror’s eyes
is it tears or pain or just the fright
of a million men looking into their minds
seeing nothing there but the rot and flies and hoping its all OK

The lady in red called me in vain
The make-up was perfect once again
What do I tell her, the draw is character
the meat I can buy at the nearest butcher
and painted lips and shiny nails
and clinging clothes and vacant eyes, woman, do I look that insane

We cloned ourselves long ago
Straightjackets were always in fashion, didn’t you know
Your father’s thoughts you wrote in stone
your children will just change the chrome
the score will read the game was won
the popcorn was good and the sun was warm and the spectators didn’t go home.