Retirement - Cursive

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