It’s the lie of passive anger
The belief in blissful loss,
False desires of imperfection
They all really want the gloss.
Give the apology after the murder
The political game is intact,
It always hurts when you’re lied to
Even worse watching the act.
Who puts a baby in the trash
To forget about their troubles,
Who really trusts the husband
Who has a body double.
As crazy as Tom Cruise
Dynamic like white paint,
It’s a fact till it's false
True motives behind the saint.