Pop goes the rubber cork
And the champers fizzes round the room
I recognise most of the faces
In this charade where morons loom
Tacky earrings swing in the wind
They wear high heels and sharp suits
False conversations and canned laughter
Gulping the pink stuff from thin slender flutes
'Do you like my bag'?
'It's Versace and I love the colour'
'Oh that's just gorgeous', says the high heel wearer
Can this conversation get any duller
'My Ferrari needs a service'
A ***** decides to speak
'My daddy has a friend in the business'
My brain begins to creak
Can't stand anymore of this *******
It's time for me to go home alone
My face just doesn't fit here
Cause its real and it's all my own