Aren't we all just hypocrites
Playing a part we aren't
Pretending to be someone other than me
Behind the scenes in this plot

Of this righteously written story
We've placed ourselves into
Me playing someone other than me
You also fudging the truth

There's nothing new in what we go through
From day one under the sun
All hypocrites in the way that we live
Each and everyone

Putting up a facade with all that we've got
Turning a blind eye to the fact
Of reality in our pretending to be
Hoping not to get caught in the act

We should have known
Bet we could have guessed
More or less just a mess
All of us hypocrites...

You feel it at the moment
You breathe in your first breath
In the lasting memories
When Mama held your uncalloused hand

From the ever tender kiss
Placed on top your tiny head
When Daddy helped you say your prayers
Tucking you into bed

You feel it when it grabs you
In Elementary School
Knowing the full meaning when
You become its love struck fool

You find it unexpectantly
When you least expect
Feeling you've run out of time
And there is little left

It's in the warm embrace
When you are desperately in need
A family saying grace
That the good Lord keep

Between a husband and his bride
After all these many years
In both the joy and the hurt
Poured out in salty tears

You feel it when time draws near
To the ledge of eternity
As your family gathers round your bed
In the last ditch effort of comforting

It's in so many places
All at the same time
There's no other way to frame it
Love is seen world wide

barefoot she knows
wherever she goes
does not own a shoe to her name

all that she needs
is a sandy beach
and a day of refreshing waves

stays grounded in life
watching seagulls in flight
where their call sets her soul free

spends the time of her life
at the peak of hightide
always carefree in the breeze

what's not to love
a day in the sun
basking in its lasting warmth

where barefoot she goes
being all that she knows
who could ask for anything more

Here I am with all the other men
Surviving at the shopping mall
Circling round the one lone couch
Waiting for our wives to show

So we can carry packages
In our sweaty shaking palms
While we patiently succumb
To their daily shop and drop

Here I am with all the other men
Rattling on with our small talk
Diving into conversations
Without giving it much thought

We talk about the weather
And price of gasoline
While our wives on their spree
Spend all of our money

Here I am with all the other man
In what seems like endless days
Not a one of us brave enough
To make our get away

So here we are at beckon call
In this shopping mall
Circling round the one lone couch
Waiting for our wives to show

who came up with the word, loneliness
the concept of being alone
if i had to guess, i'd have to say this
it was someone with no one to love

when you're out amongst the crowd
and can't seem to fit the slipstream
there's little doubt all you think about
is what lonely really means

when it's only you with the answers
to all of your questioning
no one to call or draw ideas off
you'll quickly find that you're lonely

stuck in the middle of loneliness
hand in hand with no one
you learn to accept, you're all by yourself
in this world of being alone

We continue to argue
In our back and forth
With what little we have
For all that we’re worth

In this do or die
Of choosing sides
In the right side of wrong
On the wrong side of right

No one round here
Wants to hear the truth anymore
My best guess is
That’s what poets are for

We’ve opened a chasm
Then fell into it
Never learning our lesson
As we’re still arguing

Not really sure why
Because there’s no prize
But when you’re deaf, dumb, and blind
It’s hard to see the signs

No one round here
Wants to hear the truth outright
My best guess is
That’s why poets write

Where’d we get the REF
That is keeping score
I’m really not sure
I want to play anymore

Everything I find
Is a waste of time
If their lips are moving
Then I know I’m not buying

No one round here
Wants to hear the truth being said
That’s what poets are for
Would be my best guess