Crooked smiles passed between
The rims of crystal wine glasses
And glimpses of someone else's yesterday
Whispered through pursed lips.

Delicate painted hands clasped
In laps fiddling with cashmere sweaters
And patent leather shoes
Tapping to the rhythm of expectation.

Through superficial pity and catty eyes
The lives of others were discussed
And though each teller would deny it
They revelled in the others sin

Building their own morals up
And blinding themselves to their own faults.
But in mothers dining room it's clear to see
The traits they share are wickedness and vanity.