Placate their shattered hearts.
Let them play their tragic parts.
Their eyes are sunken dreams.
Life, death, and
Everything in between.
Jesus is no where to be found.
I sigh as I look around

At the preachers
Giving into devils,
Look how the pious pray.
What more can I say
As i look
at the woman
Dealing with the wrong guy.
Oh no
I wonder if she'll ever know,
She's on the best selling show.
Is there life on mars?

Oh the piano is out of tune
To those who grew
On the moon.
So detached from this place.
Hear it in their voice
You can read it on their face.
This life is a depressing chore,
'Cause they lived it ten times or more.
They're about to be sad again
As we force them to look

At the preachers
Giving into devils,
Look how the pious pray.
What more can I say
As i look
at the woman
Dealing with the wrong guy.
Oh no
I wonder if she'll ever know,
She's on the best selling show.
Is there life on mars?