Verse:
For their sake, with all our being, we must act.
Problems sent before us, we'll devise a pact.
Home from work, get down to issues.
Close the gate, the games can wait.
For a price some guests sit with a Bilderberg.
An honor bestowed through our host, 'till you are interred.
All complaints have their place,
Leave your number with my girl in lace.
Dinner at 8:
Prim and proper, we must be. In all of our hypocrisy.
Set examples, all to see. Though they believe in equality.
One hundred stories, up and clean.
Better that we remain unseen.
They say the water's bad but keep it flowing lad.
They just don't understand...Gravy!
Haunting reality. As Gods, we play on.
Verse:
Time for dessert, Baked Alaska on the tray.
Propose a toast, all for one and one is for my way.
Clear the table, rinse the cups and saucers.
Chipped ones throw away.
All lyrics copyright 2012 Paul LaGardo, Gregg LaGardo,
Marc Burnstein