| His big house glitters, lights paint the walls
|
| Stuffed animals by fireside remind of glory days
|
| But even when the evening comes to hide his crock of gold
|
| There’s no shadow to cover soul that’s sold
|
| Her lying lips are rosy, their taste is bittersweet
|
| Splendid dress with golden crafts as white as wedding day
|
| But the filth that she carries hidden well behind her eyes
|
| Can be seen on other men she betrayed
|
| Too late to pray, too soon to redeem
|
| Their world is heavier than sin
|
| Reflections in the mirror, wrinkled face of death
|
| Will raise her shaking fears while she tries to sleep
|
| But she keeps lovely smile with eyes that gaze at lies
|
| Hiding rotten soul with sunshine in her hair
|
| A cruel misty morning brings pictures of the past
|
| He’s roaming through the day which seems will never end
|
| Biding time in misery, with shotgun in his hands
|
| Trying to run from dazing truth which never fades |