Some feign of honesty, honestly there’s nothing to it
Grift the price of absent ethics, to celebrate another vacancy
He’s so sure sh-sh-sure sure, so secure that the reels are turning
Offer gifts a formal kindness, just don’t forget to do the rosemary stretch
No threat of idle hands as, as long as the foals are throwing
A firm grip on reality, caught in the blip of the momentary
Glass-glass-glass on the walls, glass ceilings on your shooting stalls
This must be the lie, the lie, the lie, the lie, the lie, the lie, the life
Sha la la la la la, Sha la la la la la
Prescient sense, prescient sense, precious cents, precious sense
