meet these people go to their parties

afraid they’ll tell you how they make their money

dating daughters to the Restoration 

hiding bodies in woodgrain finish

 

you can’t get over the stink 

under perfume and mask

afraid they’ll take off their faces 

without the decency to ask 

 

can’t get over the stink 

ambivalence’s last act 

arise all ye cocktails soul falls 

deep, hard, and fast 

 

date these people running the country 

getting closer out of curiosity 

feeling tipsy falling between 

complicity and fatal fancies  

 

then you start to stink 

from childhood through now

racing to the brink

of your own thoughts  

 

you feel the stink 

as you come along

the hell and the dream

are the same parts